Anthology
by gkeeper91
Summary: A would-be collection of stories. Various pairings. First story: Mirror, Mirror. A broken mirror sends Wolfram to a time where his deepest desire had come true. Second Story (ongoing): Someone Like You. Yuuri's getting married. And Wolfram's invited.
1. Mirror, Mirror (1 of 2)

**_ANTHOLOGY Time _**

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><p><em>Disclaimer: KKM does not belong to me. This story was written for fun. Just enjoy!<em>

_Special thanks to **soypants** for beta-reading!_

_Warning: Fluff. Might induce a severe case of fangirl mania. Proceed with caution. _

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><p><strong>Mirror, Mirror<strong>

**(Part 1 of 2)**

~o0o~

It all started with a broken mirror.

Technically, it really wasn't a mirror at all, but a huge bowl, much like one used in any restaurant to serve ramen, or salad, or a large serving of soup. It looked pretty ordinary by all means, and there was virtually nothing about it that would inspire the least amount of interest or awe from any of those who had seen it. It was one of those things that would sit inconspicuously on a dusty shelf in a dusty room for years on end, without any eye ever straying to it. And given its plain exterior, how could anybody have guessed that it actually possessed a wondrous magical capacity?

You see, this mirror – which wasn't a mirror at all – could control time.

As with all magical objects, nobody could adequately explain how this mirror came about with its power. There were legends, of course, and theories, and various suppositions put about by an entire generation of sages, but still, its origin was left frustratingly unexplained.

Through the years, as it changed from one hand to another, the mirror was used, misused, abused, shunned, coveted, stolen, sold, and then stolen again, until it finally came to the possession of a powerful monarch – the Demon King – whereupon the mirror was admired, displayed, tested, and then used some more.

When the Demon King passed away, all his possessions were transferred to a spare room somewhere in the castle, and it was there that the mirror stayed for many years, gathering dust in some corner until it was eventually forgotten.

It was some centuries later, during the reign of the 27th Demon King, Shibuya Yuuri, that the mirror was rediscovered in one of the obscure rooms of the castle, amongst various ancient items that had once belonged to the king's predecessors.

The Demon King could hardly forget his first encounter with the mirror. Only moments after finding it and hearing what it was from his irate fiancé (whom he had been running away from but had been unable to shake off), he suddenly found himself some fifty-odd years into the past.

His unlikely adventure should have alerted him to the fact that he was dealing with an object that was both immensely wonderful and dangerous. Time was something that mortals shouldn't trifle with; thus, an object that can control time should definitely be handled with caution, or even not handled at all. But as young and trusting as the Demon King was, he found no cause to be wary of the mirror. In fact, after that short escapade, the Demon King merely stowed the mirror back in a coffer in the Treasure Room, where it lay for many months, undisturbed.

The mirror was brought out again by the servants during the spring cleaning, in preparation for a ball which was to take place in Blood Pledge Castle later in the week. Nobody could tell exactly what happened, what with the maids scurrying about the room and the flurry of activities that took place afterwards, but one thing was certain: somebody forgot to return the mirror to where it once was. How else would one explain the presence of the mirror _on top_ of the treasure chest instead of inside it? How else would it be at that precise spot when the Demon King and his fiancé, Lord Wolfram von Bielefeld, entered the room? How else would the mirror be there at that exact spot when Lord Wolfram, angered by a remark the Demon King had made about their engagement, gesticulated wildly with one hand, thereby knocking it over?

Nobody could tell for sure how the mirror ended up there, but it wasn't really important now. What was important was what happened next.

The mirror fell, and a millisecond later, it made contact with the pavement, where it cracked loudly, then shattered into several irregular pieces. The Demon King and his fiancé, both too horrified by what just happened, remained frozen where they stood, just staring at what was left of the mirror.

Then, Lord Wolfram made a mistake. He bent down to touch one piece.

Time is something that mortals shouldn't trifle with, so an object that controls time – and a broken one at that – is indisputably too dangerous to be handled so casually.

Lord Wolfram knew this undoubtedly, but in the spur of the moment, he acted without thinking. His fingers touched the tip of a shard, where it instantly shimmered, then shone a bright yellow before his surprised eyes. A second later, much to his and his fiancé's alarm, Lord Wolfram was shining too.

And then, in the snap of a finger, he was gone.

And that was how everything started. With a broken mirror.

~o0o~

The last thing Wolfram remembered was the sound of something breaking, and for a confused moment, he thought that it might have been his heart. After all, Yuuri – that good-for-nothing, idiotic, thick-headed wimp – had just told him that he didn't want to be engaged to him anymore.

Wolfram frowned, struggling to remember how it all began. There was a ball at Blood Pledge Castle and…there was a girl. Of course_,_ there was a girl, he thought furiously, a girl whom Yuuri had been chatting merrily with for about an hour since the party started. Wolfram wouldn't put up with it, of course, and after downing the contents of his seventh glass of wine, he strode towards the happy couple, planted himself firmly between them, and asserted _his_ right as the king's fiancé.

True, he might have been too abrasive, and yes, he might have looked like he wanted to choke the girl to death, but was it his fault that the girl burst into tears? Was it his fault that she turned deathly pale and nearly keeled over? In his opinion, he hadn't been _that_ frightening at all.

But Yuuri didn't share his opinion. Yuuri had chided him, very loudly, in_ public _at that, about his rude behavior, and everything just went downhill from there.

Wolfram could hardly remember what took place next. Yuuri had pulled him out of the gathering, and somehow, they ended up in the Treasure Room. It was there that Yuuri shook his head at him, looking more disappointed than angry, and said, "You know, this is one of those moments when I think that maybe—"

"Maybe what?" Wolfram had snarled, the bottom falling out of his stomach. His heart had started to pound agonizingly at the severity of the other boy's expression.

"Maybe we should end this now."

Wolfram had no doubt in his mind what the other boy meant by "this." He gritted his teeth to keep his voice from shaking. "Fine! Have it your way! It's what you've always wanted, isn't it?"

Yuuri looked exasperatedly at him, taking a step forward, arms raised in a consoling manner. "Wolf—"

"Don't touch me!" he had yelled, moving to slap the hand away. But as he did so, he…he had touched something…accidentally toppling it over…

Something was going to break.

Something was breaking.

Something broke.

And that was the last thing he remembered.

~o0o~

When Wolfram opened his eyes, it was to a scene that was not quite what he had expected.

He was in bed, clad in an unfamiliar nightgown, sprawled face-down on a pillow that looked totally new to him. He lifted his head slightly, shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun against the window. The bright gold rays of sunlight filtering through the curtains indicated that it must be mid-morning already.

Wolfram pushed himself up, blinking in confusion. Did he fall asleep? How on earth did he end up in bed? Wasn't he in the Treasure Room just a while back? Wasn't he just talking to…to…

_Yuuri!_

Wolfram's eyes widened at the memory of what had been said between them. Did that really happen? Did he just agree to the dissolution of his engagement with Yuuri? And…and did he just…?

_Oh Shinou…_

Wolfram's head pounded, the sound of something crashing to the floor echoing harshly inside his head. He massaged his temples, brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes. Did he also just _break_ the Demon Mirror? As in actually _destroy_ an ancient magical artifact? Gwendal and Gunter would have his head for that. He wouldn't put it past them to have him arrested for what they might deem as a truly horrific act, no matter how much Wolfram would claim that it was an accident.

Wolfram cursed under his breath, punching a pillow in frustration, noting as he did so that it was a different color and design than the ones he had used the night before. Had the maids changed the linens and the blankets? He shook his head. He had a lot of things to deal with without having to worry about the state of the bedcovers—

—which he shouldn't be worried about at all after this day_,_ Wolfram thought grimly. With the engagement rescinded, he had no right to sleep, much less step inside the Demon King's bedroom, _ever_. Yuuri shouldn't have brought him here.

The wimp must be feeling guilty, Wolfram guessed. Maybe his _former _fiancé just wanted him to spend one more night here, for old times' sake. But then again, maybe it wasn't even Yuuri's idea to bring him back to the bedroom last night. Maybe Wolfram had passed out in a drunken stupor somewhere and somebody else – one of his brothers, perhaps – had brought him here, and as usual, Yuuri had been too cowardly to protest, or tell everyone that they were no longer engaged. Wolfram smiled bitterly at that possibility and how very likely it was to be true.

He slumped back on the bed, shoulders sagging helplessly at the thought of facing everyone today. Maybe Yuuri had finally told them about their break-up. And maybe he had also told everyone that Wolfram had broken the Demon Mirror in a fit of jealous anger. That would be a nice bit of gossip for the maids and servants to talk about.

Wolfram sighed glumly, lying back down, taking in the feel of the bed and the sight of the room for one last time. The maids really did a _lot_ of rearrangement in just a night's time, he thought, registering the sight of a new divan set in one corner, and a large, antiquated mirror situated right next to it. Wolfram turned, lying on his back. Even the bed itself looked new…

Wolfram let out another sigh, turning once more to his side. Several strands of hair fell right over his eyes and he moved to brush them back. He struggled with it for a bit, wondering with some irritation why he had allowed his hair to grow this long… He paused, one hand frozen in mid-air. It was then that he finally noticed that something else had changed.

His hair was longer, abnormally so, to a length that he could not have achieved in just a single night. He got up, letting his hand slide down the mane of hair that flowed down his back, ending an inch below his shoulder blades. Wolfram froze for two or three seconds, then he leapt out of bed, tripping over his own feet in his haste to get to the mirror.

His reflection was completely unfamiliar. The Wolfram in the mirror was taller by a few inches, with long, blond hair that extended down and curled slightly by his shoulders. He looked older. More mature, he thought, pleased at the change.

He regarded himself in wonder, turning so that he could inspect himself from all angles. It was like seeing a preview of what he'd look like in a few years' time. Wolfram nodded in satisfaction. And then he caught himself.

'_What am I thinking?' _he screeched mentally. This was not something to be pleased about! This was bizarre! And confusing! And downright terrifying! He looked around wildly. Where was he? What was going on?

Wolfram stepped back, then he ran and pushed the bedroom door open. His mind was about to explode, and he desperately needed to see anything – _anything_ – familiar at all. Anything to pull him back to reality.

Sadly, that was not about to happen.

~o0o~

"Your Majesty? What's wrong? Er…do you realize that you're out here in your…nightclothes?"

Wolfram stumbled back. He recognized the face of the person who had spoken; he immediately knew his voice. But everything about the man was different from what Wolfram remembered.

"D-Dacascos?" he said tentatively.

"Er...yes, Your Majesty," said the man, standing on attention.

Wolfram took a step forward. It _was_ Dacascos alright. He looked and sounded like the Dacascos Wolfram knew. The only problem was, _this _Dacascos wasn't bald.

"Is there a problem, Your Majesty?" asked the man nervously.

Slowly, Wolfram reached out to pat the man's head, just to convince himself that it really was hair he was seeing atop the man's once-barren scalp.

"Your Majesty?" Dacascos repeated uncertainly.

"Since when did you grow out your hair?" Wolfram blurted out, failing to register anything else other than that information.

The man looked surprised at the question but he answered just the same, "Just the previous year, Your Majesty." He cleared his throat self-consciously. "Don't you remember, Your Majesty? You said that you were getting tired of seeing me…er…_hairless_ for the past nine years…"

_Nine years. Your Majesty._ Wolfram didn't know which to react on first. He felt dizzy.

"Your Majesty?" Dacascos said again, blushing slightly as he stared at Wolfram. "You look pale, Your Majesty…"

"I'm fine…" Wolfram said unconvincingly. "I'll…I'm…I'm going back to bed." Yes, that would be the best course of action, he promised himself in a vain effort to calm his frayed nerves. He _must_ be dreaming. He'd go back to bed, and when he'd wake up, he'd look the same, and Dacascos would be bald again and everything would be back to normal.

"Er…they're expecting you down at the courtyard, Your Majesty," said Dacascos in slight protest. "You…you'd go, wouldn't you? The king and your brothers have just returned. They'd want to see you for sure…"

Wolfram perked up. "Where are they?"

"In the courtyard—"

Wolfram did not let the man finish. He strode past him, intent on getting to the bottom of this unsettling situation. But a few steps away, he stopped and looked down at himself, suddenly aware how positively _vulgar_ he looked right then. His nightgown was_ very_ flimsy, not something that he'd normally put on, prompting him to wonder how he had ended up wearing it.

He turned red, conscious all of a sudden at his state of dress. He fled back to the bedroom and slammed the door shut. Dream or no dream, he wouldn't make a spectacle of himself by marching half-naked and bare-footed out into the open.

Breathing deeply, Wolfram strode to the closet, stopping short when he saw what it contained. He twisted around, making a full three-hundred-sixty-degree turn before accepting the reality of what he was seeing. The dizziness returned and Wolfram had to fling out an arm to the nearby wall to steady himself. He stared at all the fabrics and capes and breeches and boots in utter disbelief.

A large number of it was black – the royal color.

Dacascos' voice suddenly rang through his head – _"Don't you remember, Your Majesty? – _and Wolfram slumped down to the floor.

_Impossible_.

~o0o~

_There are two possibilities_, Wolfram thought. Two possibilities. Having discounted the likelihood that he was merely dreaming, Wolfram was left with two possibilities.

The first – which he didn't want to believe at all costs because it was too pathetic – was that he had gone mad. Maybe that break-up with Yuuri had made him lose his sanity, and what he was now experiencing was an offshoot of his deranged mind.

The second – which he was more likely to believe because it was less embarrassing – was that he was somehow transported to the future by that…_accident_…he had with the Demon Mirror. Wolfram wasn't sure whether the Mirror had that capacity but there couldn't be any other explanation, could there?

Right, he told himself. You can't stay on the fence forever. You have to decide what to believe and act on it. If that was the case, then…he'd rather believe that he was in the future. Yes, that's right. The future. From what Dacascos had told him, nine or ten years had passed since that night at the Treasure Room.

Wolfram relaxed a bit, breathing a little easier, but then, more concerns arose in view of this predicament. If he was in the future, what was happening? Where was everyone? Greta? His brothers? His mother? Yuuri? Why was he in the Demon King's room? Why does he have a closet-full of clothes in the royal color?

Wolfram swore under his breath, leaning his head on his knees. How in Shinou's name would he be able to get back? Would he even be able to?

"Wolf?"

Wolfram heard the bedroom door opening and closing. There were footsteps across the floor, and a moment later, someone was standing by the closet, towering over him. His eyes widened with recognition.

"Aren't you coming out yet?" asked the person who just came in. "That was rude, you know, not coming down to meet us. Everyone's been looking for you."

Wolfram's voice failed. He gawked at the man before him. He recognized him first because of the black eyes and hair, and the goofy, lopsided grin he was giving him. But he looked so strange…so foreign… and yet there was something so familiar about him at the same time. He looked like the boy Wolfram had always loved, and yet there was something so different in the way he held himself. He had an air of confidence and authority that hadn't been there before.

"Hey," said Yuuri, surveying him with a worried eye. "Are you okay? Are you still mad at me?"

This man _is_ Yuuri. He'd grown, Wolfram noted. He was taller, too, maybe slightly taller than Wolfram was right then. He looked the same, just older. He was also more muscular, broader at the shoulders, and he seemed infinitely stronger than he had been nine or ten years ago. Wolfram noticed a long scar on his right forearm and he wondered whether this Yuuri had finally been in combat. Somehow, he couldn't imagine the young, gentle Yuuri he'd known in the midst of an armed confrontation.

"Wolf?" Yuuri repeated, falling to one knee to look him in the eye. He looked apologetic, as though he had done something wrong. "I know I shouldn't have left before sorting things out between us, but you knew how it was. I can't keep the human ambassadors waiting, can I?"

Wolfram just looked at him, uncomprehending. Yuuri sighed, lifting a careful hand to caress his cheek.

"Look, I know you don't like getting left out of our trip, but somebody has to stay here and keep things afloat. We can't both be out there. You said it yourself before – it's too dangerous for both of us to leave the capital." He looked at Wolfram with a pained expression. "I just wanted you to stay here where I know that you'd be safe, you know?"

Wolfram didn't understand a single word, but he forced himself to respond. "I'm fine."

"Wolf…"

"I'm fine," he insisted. "Really."

Yuuri looked like he did not believe him, but he did not pursue the topic. He smiled and extended his hand. "Okay…so, will you come out now?"

"You go ahead," he answered, refusing to stare too long into Yuuri's eyes. "I'll join you later."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

Wolfram nodded, gesturing helplessly to the selection of clothes in front of him. "I…I have to decide what to wear."

It was a lousy excuse, but Yuuri seemed to buy it. Chuckling, he leaned closer, trapping Wolfram against the wall, and laughed. "Everything looks good on you," he said fondly, then added in a strange tone, "but nothing looks even better."

Wolfram flushed at the comment, and his first instinct was to yell at the man for saying something so mortifying. But before he could react, Yuuri closed the gap between them and claimed his lips in a long, searing kiss.

Wolfram forgot how to breathe.

~o0o~

Wolfram found out a long while later that he and Yuuri were married – had apparently been so for seven years now. If he had known earlier, then Yuuri's actions might have made a little more sense to him. If he had known, then he might have reacted a little more differently, a little more appropriately. But he didn't know anything, and back then, when Yuuri had kissed him, Wolfram felt a momentary tingle of pleasure before it was all overcome with unease. Then one of Yuuri's hands crawled up his leg, lingering along the inside of his thigh, and Wolfram's anxieties quickly morphed into full-blown panic. His own hands seemed to move of their own accord, and before he knew what he was doing, he had pushed Yuuri back.

With a maneuver that Wolfram had never imagined the young Demon King to be capable of, Yuuri steadied himself with one arm. Moving swiftly, he lurched back towards Wolfram, using his other hand to pin him back against the wall.

The unexpected limb gripping his shoulder had hurt, and crying out, Wolfram instinctively raised one hand, ready to retaliate. It took a few confused seconds for him to catch himself, and when he did, he could only stare at Yuuri in surprise and apprehension. Yuuri seemed just as surprised, and Wolfram realized with awe that his fiancé – _former_ fiancé, he immediately corrected – had acted merely on reflex. Just like a trained soldier would when caught unprepared with a movement that had been construed as hostile, like being pushed away.

"What…was _that_ about?" Yuuri asked, his face a confused palette of emotions. He released his grip but did not move away, dark eyes piercing straight into Wolfram's. "What's wrong?"

"Please leave," Wolfram said, barely able to get the words out. Yuuri's proximity was giving him a weird feeling, maybe because he still couldn't decide whether he liked being kissed and touched by this…this _stranger_. He added, flustered, "I-I need to be alone."

"Is something wrong?" the Demon King pressed. "Tell me, please…"

The entreaty made him feel worse. Wolfram bit his lip, then said softly, "Nothing's wrong. I just…can you just…leave me alone…for now?"

Yuuri regarded him with a long, searching look, eyebrows knitted together.

"Please!_" _Wolfram said, beseeching.

Reluctantly, Yuuri nodded and stood up. A few steps away, however, he stopped and asked, "You'd tell me if there was something wrong…right?"

Wolfram bobbed his head in assent, not because he agreed but because he didn't know what else to say.

Again, Yuuri did not look like he believed him.

~o0o~

Wolfram found himself in Shinou's Temple an hour after that encounter. If anybody could help him, he figured it should be the Original King who had centuries of knowledge and experience with matters as peculiar as his current situation.

The shrine maidens were unwilling to let him in, but fortunately, Ulrike happened to be passing by, and it was through her that Wolfram was allowed to enter. She hadn't changed a single bit, and for that at least, Wolfram felt glad. Glad that a part of the world he remembered remained the same.

Ulrike listened to his story, silent and unmoving, until he was done. And then she said thoughtfully, "So _that _wasthe disturbance we felt earlier. The Great One shall be pleased to finally have an explanation. So shall His Eminence."

"Are they both here?" asked Wolfram.

Ulrike nodded, then signaling to him, she led him to the main chamber, where Shinou and Murata stood in silence, looking as if they had been waiting for him to arrive.

Nobody spoke for a beat, and then Murata – an older, grave-looking Murata – sighed loudly. "You're in deep trouble, aren't you, Lord von Bielefeld?"

Wolfram could only nod in agreement.

~o0o~

They told him that the Demon Mirror's powers were beyond their control, but that they might find a way to send him back. It was Wolfram's turn to listen, but he was far from relieved at what he was told. Apparently, he needed to spend more time here with these…strangers…before he could return to his own time.

In contrast, Murata looked positive that things would turn out well. "It's going to be fine," said the sage. "I remember that ball you mentioned. You and Shibuya did leave the room, and I assume that you must have fought—"

"We did," Wolfram inserted, failing to hide the resentment in his tone. That was the night that Yuuri ended their engagement. _Wimp, _he thought crossly. And then he realized something. If their engagement had ended, why did he wake up in Yuuri's bedroom? Why did Yuuri – he blushed in remembrance of what took place in the closet – kiss him?

"You left after that," continued Murata. "And Shibuya was so distressed that he was literally jumping with joy when you returned." The sage paused, examining his face. "Er…do you know that you married him a few years after that night?"

Wolfram turned a bright red, then pale, then green. He said weakly, "I don't."

"Because it has yet to happen in your present," said Shinou, joining the conversation. "This is quite a situation you have gotten yourself into."

"But how do I get back?" Wolfram asked in frustration, wondering wryly whether he had to break another enchanted mirror. And speaking of mirrors… "What about the Demon Mirror?"

"It's in the Treasure Room, I guess," answered Murata. "To the best of my knowledge, it was not broken at all that night, and it still remains in excellent condition to this very day."

Wolfram couldn't believe it. "But how did that happen?"

"That is proof that you were able to return," Shinou responded simply. "Right before you broke it."

"So you see," chimed Murata cheerfully. "You don't need to worry." He smiled at Wolfram's disbelieving face. "It's all going to be fine."

~o0o~

It was nearly dusk, and after much persuasion, Wolfram finally agreed to return to the castle. He was instructed not to say anything to anyone, and was assured that Shinou would have a solution by the end of the week. Wolfram wanted to stay some more, but Murata had pointed out that the entire castle must be searching for him right now.

"Just act normally, and try not to do anything that'd give you away," Murata ordered. "And try not to ask so much about past events. You're not supposed to know about them."

"But how do I act normally if I don't know what has been happening for the past ten years?" argued Wolfram.

The sage had given him an enigmatic smile. "You'll figure something out."

And that was that.

Getting back to the castle undetected was virtually impossible.

Earlier, Wolfram had found a nondescript cloak stashed beneath all the black ones in the closet, and he used that to cover as much of himself as possible. It was a very poor disguise still, as he was recognized almost immediately by the people he met on his way back. He was hoping that he wouldn't bump into Yuuri or Gwendal or Conrad or anybody else he knew, but even that seemed to be too much to hope for. As he turned a corner on his way back to the royal bedroom, he promptly walked right into his eldest brother.

Gwendal looked nearly the same. Aside from the beard he was now sporting, he did not seem to have changed at all. He just looked more rugged, much like Wolfram's memories of Dan Hiri Weller. Wolfram wondered whether this Gwendal followed Conrad's father's footsteps and also traveled to the outlying provinces of the kingdom. He had the air of a world-weary traveler who had just returned from a taxing journey.

His brother regarded him with a frown. "_There_ you are. Where have you been all day?"

Wolfram gulped, and he tried without much success to keep his voice steady. "I…I was out…"

"Out where?" demanded Gwendal. "We've been looking for you all afternoon!"

"I—"

"What is it about this time? Is this still about His Majesty's decision to travel without you to Dai Shimaron?"

"Brother—"

"I did not agree with it, either," snapped the man. "But he had made up his mind and I supported his decision. There is no taking anything back, so you had better get over it."

"I don't—"

"You cannot just keep throwing off tantrums when you cannot get what you want! For goodness' sake, you are not eighty anymore!" He fixed Wolfram with a critical eye. "Do you understand, _Your Majesty_?"

That was it. Wolfram matched the glare his brother was directing at him, finding it distinctly unfair that he was being chastised for something that he did not even know about. He wanted to scream that he did not belong here, that he had zero memories at all of the past nine or ten years. He clenched his fists tightly to control himself.

"Well?" Gwendal seemed to be waiting for an explanation.

Wolfram tensed. "Would that be all?"

He sounded mutinous and he knew it, but he didn't care any longer. All he wanted was to get out of his brother's sight, away from these people who all seemed so alien to him. Unknown.

Gwendal took a moment to answer, and taking advantage of that, Wolfram walked pass him, going as fast as his feet could carry him. Unfortunately, as he turned another corner, he walked straight into Conrad.

Conrad had grown out his hair, reverting to his pre-Rutenberg appearance. He looked worn-out, with two dark circles underlining his eyes. Wolfram thought he could use a good night's rest – or two.

"Wolfram?" Conrad said. "Where have you been all aft—?"

"I was out," he cut off, trying to get around the man. But dissatisfied with the response, Conrad stood firmly on the spot, blocking his way. Wolfram made a frustrated sound. "What do you want?"

"Are you alright?" Conrad asked, eyebrows scrunched together in puzzlement. "I'm sorry that you had to be left behind. I didn't agree with Yuuri's decision to keep you out of the loop, but…"

That again. Wolfram narrowed his eyes. "I don't care about that."

That seemed to puzzle Conrad even more. "Oh? But I thought—"

"Well, you thought wrong."

"Wolfram—"

"I need to go," Wolfram said determinedly. A door had opened somewhere down the corridor and he could see a lot of people filing out. He didn't want to be spotted by any of them.

"Yuuri was worried," said Conrad softly, stopping him on his tracks. "Did you two fight? He seemed so depressed when he came out of your room…"

Wolfram didn't want to answer. He tried once again to get away, but Conrad was still there, thwarting his attempts to escape. Across the corridor, the room emptied out to reveal the last person he wanted to encounter. Wolfram struggled to calm the wild pounding of his heart, but it still echoed loudly in his ears.

Yuuri had just exited the room, a brown-haired beauty walking by his side, one hand hooked on his elbow. The familiar surges of jealousy and protectiveness washed over him, but then he remembered that he shouldn't feel anything.

This wasn't Yuuri. This wasn't _his _Yuuri.

He realized vaguely that he had to move before Yuuri and his companion spot him, but Conrad was making it so difficult to flee. His brother asked curiously, "Aren't you going to talk to him? Even just to let him know that you're back? He was enormously worried when we you were nowhere to be found."

Wolfram ignored his brother's remarks. Conrad continued, "He wouldn't stay here for long, you realize that? He'd have to leave again for Caloria. You shouldn't waste this time by fighting…"

Wolfram was weary of the lectures, of the advices and admonishments that weren't meant for him. He muttered under his breath, "Get out of my way, Conrad."

"Stop acting like this," Conrad chided.

Wolfram shook his head impatiently. He really should go, right before Yuuri and the girl—

Too late. Yuuri had heard Conrad's voice and had turned to their direction. Noticing the king's gaze, his companion also did the same, beaming when her eyes met Wolfram's.

The girl waved at him, calling out his name, and Wolfram's breath hitched in his throat. The stunning, long-haired girl was Greta.

It was all he could take for one day. Wolfram felt the ground moving, as though the very earth was being pulled from right under his feet. He was falling. He could hear Conrad saying his name in alarm, but Wolfram couldn't make sense of anything anymore.

Wolfram closed his eyes and allowed himself to fall.

~o0o~

Wolfram woke up to a darkened room, the warmth of a body pressed against him, and a pair of arms wrapped around his torso in a protective embrace. He stiffened.

"Wolf?" Yuuri whispered, perhaps sensing that he was awake.

Wolfram did not answer. He did not dare move a muscle. His head was still spinning and he wasn't sure if he was ready for another confrontation.

"You scared us," said Yuuri conversationally. "But Gisela said that you were just worn out…" He paused, as though waiting for a response, but receiving none, he went on, "I'm so sorry for leaving you here, but…I just wanted you to be safe, you know." He snorted at his own comment. "Safe…yeah, right. I didn't think for a second that your duties would be as difficult. The others told me that you've been working yourself to death around here. So much for paperwork not being dangerous…"

There was a pause again, but Wolfram still did not make a sound. Yuuri sighed. "Wolf, you can't ignore me forever." The hand around Wolfram's waist tightened, drawing him closer. "I missed you. Didn't you miss me too?"

_'How could I?'_ Wolfram mused. _'In my mind, I've only seen you a few hours ago, when you just broke my heart.' _Murata's instructions came back to him. Act normally. Don't ask anything about the past. It was all he could do to keep his eyes from rolling. That was easier said than done.

"Wolf?" Yuuri whispered again, planting a kiss on his hair. "Please don't stay mad at me."

Act normally, Wolfram told himself. Well, here goes nothing. He looked up, meeting Yuuri's eyes. His _husband's_ eyes, Wolfram thought with some difficulty, unable to reconcile the concept of 'spouse' with the boy he had known ten years ago, to the man who now held him.

"I'm not mad," he said quietly. "I'm just tired."

The lines in Yuuri's face smoothened out. "That's nice to hear," he said, planting another kiss on Wolfram's forehead. He seemed so at ease with such physical displays of affection that Wolfram had to wonder how many years it took to transform the awkward Yuuri he'd known into this demonstrative version. One year? Three? More than four?

"I really missed you," Yuuri repeated, lifting Wolfram's chin up, his lips hovering enticingly over Wolfram's.

"There aren't any fire demons from where you just came from?" Wolfram asked offhandedly, attempting with all his might to act as though Yuuri's closeness wasn't affecting him.

"Not too many," Yuuri answered, breaking into a relieved smile. "And there aren't any blonds at all."

Wolfram actually managed a chortle this time, and despite the strain, he was already starting to relax within the confines of Yuuri's arms. And this time, when Yuuri pressed his lips against his, Wolfram managed to contain most of his anxieties to enable him to concentrate on the kiss for the very first time. Yuuri held it for a long moment, his tongue sliding in inside Wolfram's mouth.

The kiss ended, and they broke apart for what seemed to only be a second before Yuuri claimed his lips once again. He seemed so hungry for this, and it was starting to frighten Wolfram a little bit. With the way their bodies were crushed together, it was hard not to know what the Demon King wanted, and Wolfram wasn't sure if he could go that far.

When Yuuri clasped him by the shoulders and turned him on his back, Wolfram began to lose his composure. He struggled against the king's grip, not knowing how to avert what was to come without hurting Yuuri's feelings. With a stupendous effort, he pushed Yuuri off of him, but he only succeeded in reversing their positions, so that he was now on top, and an amused Yuuri ended beneath him.

Yuuri laughed, raising his head to offer Wolfram another kiss. Terrified and embarrassed at the same time, Wolfram held the king by the shoulders, shoving him roughly back to the bed. To his intense chagrin, Yuuri grinned at him, seeming to enjoy everything…seeming to wait for Wolfram to make another move…

Wolfram's mind spun with various distressing thoughts. It wasn't as if he hadn't thought of doing this with Yuuri, and it wasn't as if he wasn't tempted to throw all sense of modesty out the window right now and just lose himself in his future husband's arms, but the feeling that this was so _wrong _nagged viciously at the back of his mind. _Yuuri_, Wolfram thought, and as suddenly as that, he saw his fiancé's face…

_"Maybe we should end this now."_

Wolfram winced. How could he have forgotten that expression Yuuri had when he told him that he wanted to end their engagement?

"Wolf…"

Wolfram stared down at the Yuuri he was now with, and somehow, he could not stop himself from flinching. This does _not_ feel right.

"Wolf…" Yuuri repeated, his expression glazed. His hands snaked up Wolfram's waist, trying to pull him down.

Wolfram slapped the hands off of him, and at the same time, lifted himself up. He inched away, trying to put as much distance between their bodies as he could. "I'm sorry…I can't do this…"

Yuuri sat up, looking reasonably confused and frustrated. "What's wrong?"

Wolfram swallowed hard. "I-I'm really tired…"

"What?"

"I'm…" He wanted to think of another excuse, but his mind had stopped working, so he just repeated, "I'm tired."

"Tired?" Yuuri echoed in disbelief, giving him a curious look. "What are you talking about?"

"Tired doesn't have any other meaning, does it?" Wolfram asked brusquely. He didn't mean to sound so unkind, but he didn't know how else to deal with this without fueling himself with anger.

"Oh…" said Yuuri, freezing, looking like he could not believe what he was hearing, obviously stung at the implied rejection.

Wolfram felt awful all at once, and he opened his mouth to explain, but he couldn't quite get any word out. "I'm sorry," he whispered instead, so softly that he wasn't sure if Yuuri even heard him.

"I see," said Yuuri, staring at him. He stood up and grabbed a robe from the nightstand. "So much for not being mad, huh?" he asked rhetorically.

Wolfram looked away. Yuuri shook his head at him before walking out the door, and Wolfram could do nothing but watch him leave. When he was finally alone, Wolfram sighed, realizing the gravity of what he had just done. He ran a hand through his tangled hair and lay down.

So much for acting normally.

~o0o~

**TBC**

~o0o~


	2. Mirror, Mirror (2 of 2)

**_ANTHOLOGY Time _**

**Mirror, Mirror**

** (Part 2 of 2)**

~o0o~

There was a small family gathering in the garden the following morning, which Lady Cheri had prepared in celebration of the king's safe return to Blood Pledge Castle. It was there that Wolfram saw Yuuri again, and one look at him made Wolfram feel extremely guilty. The king looked like he hadn't slept at all.

Yozak – who had grown in appearance, but obviously not in mentality – immediately seized upon his and Yuuri's obvious drowsiness, and started cracking jokes about them being too "busy" last night to even bother to sleep.

As Wolfram yawned for what seemed to be the tenth time, the spy said impishly, "You _really _missed each other, didn't you?"

Wolfram blushed and stuttered angrily, "W-what are you talking about?!"

"Oh, you _know_," Yozak said, winking.

Wolfram opened his mouth to retort, but Yuuri interceded before he could do so, "No, he doesn't. We were both so _tired_ last night, weren't we, Wolfram?"

Wolfram turned, if possible, even redder. There was a challenging gleam in Yuuri's eyes, something that he was not entirely used to seeing, and he did not know how to react to that. Mercifully, Murata chose the moment to make his entrance, shifting all the unwanted attention to himself.

"Your Eminence!" cried Lady Cheri. "I'm so glad you could come."

"Thank you for inviting me," said Murata with a smile. "But I can't really stay for long. I just need to borrow Lord vo—er—His Majesty for a moment." He added as Yuuri rose from his chair, "Not you, Shibuya. Your husband."

Wolfram nearly jumped from his seat. Yuuri raised his eyebrow at him, silently questioning his reaction.

"We'll be right back," said Murata, looking so pleased with himself for some reason. Together, they strode out to the far side of the garden, and as soon as they were out of earshot, he eagerly explained, "We've found a way to send you back."

"Really?" Wolfram asked, brightening up. "When? Can I go now?"

"Er, no. It's not that easy."

Wolfram's face fell. "Oh."

Murata's eyes gleamed, and he asked, pushing his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose, "Why are you so eager to leave? Aren't you enjoying yourself, even just a little bit? I thought that you'd like the Shibuya you see right now."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

The sage's expression was deceptively innocent. "Well, Shibuya and you…didn't you…sleep together?"

The effect of that statement was instantaneous. All the blood in Wolfram's body seemed to rush up to his face, and forgetting his manners, he grabbed Murata by the collar, and yelled, "Like I would let something like that happen! This is your fault! You've got to get me out of he—!"

"Shh!" Murata interrupted sternly. "Calm down, will you?"

Wolfram immediately backed down, realizing that he had attracted the attention of everyone back in the table. He purposefully avoided meeting Yuuri's eyes, but he could feel them on him just the same.

"Stop saying things like that," Wolfram grumbled after a pause. "You're as bad as Yozak."

"If you wish…" said Murata. "I didn't mean to offend you, though. I merely thought that you'd be very happy with the way Shibuya acts towards you now…but far from it, you look miserable…"

"Because I don't know him," Wolfram said despondently. "I don't know any of them."

"He's the same. They're the same people," said the sage simply. "_We're_ the same people."

Wolfram shook his head. "No. Everyone's changed." He looked back at the table – at his brothers, his mother, Yozak, Greta… He added sadly, "I don't belong here."

"Well," said Murata, "that's what I wanted to hear."

"Huh?"

"Let me put it this way," answered the sage. "Why were you here in the first place? Shinou thinks that the Demon Mirror did play a part, but more importantly, it was your own feelings that triggered the Mirror's powers to bring you here."

"My own feelings?" echoed Wolfram. "What do you mean by that?"

The sage regarded him curiously. "Do you remember your exact thoughts and feelings that precise moment when you picked up the Mirror?"

Wolfram struggled to remember. "Well…I was angry."

"And?"

"And…" He sighed, reluctant to tell the truth. "I was…hurt."

"What else?" asked Murata, scrutinizing him carefully. "What exactly were you thinking?"

"I...I wanted to get away. Just to get away."

"And did you think or wish for anything with regard to your relationship with Shibuya?"

Wolfram's cheeks reddened. He did wish for something of that sort, for Yuuri to notice him, for his fiancé to return his feelings. He asked in understanding, "You think I did this to myself? You think I _wanted_ to be here?"

The sage nodded. "Perhaps at some inner, unacknowledged part of you, you wanted this so badly that the Mirror enabled you to jump through time. And thus, to return to your own time, you must want to get back so badly, too."

Wolfram snorted. That wouldn't be too hard. He said confidently, "I think I could manage that."

Oddly enough, Murata did not share his optimism. "If you're so sure you can pull it off…"

"I am."

"Fine," said the sage. "Then be at the Treasure Room tomorrow night."

"Oh," Wolfram remarked, surprised. "Tomorrow?"

"You seem unhappy with that," Murata observed. "I thought you wanted to leave immediately?"

"It's not that…I just thought, from the way you spoke earlier, that it would take longer."

"It has to be tomorrow. Don't you remember the day tomorrow?"

Wolfram did, and his eyes widened with comprehension. "It's the same day as that ball ten years ago!"

"Correct. The Spring Ball. The day you broke the Demon Mirror." The sage gave him a meaningful look. "There's another ball tomorrow night."

Wolfram could hardly contain his excitement, but at the same time, there was an inexplicable feeling of sadness there too. "So what do I do?"

Wolfram listened attentively as Murata outlined the plan for tomorrow, and so intent was he in taking in the details that he failed to notice that all throughout their conversation, Yuuri was still observing them, black eyes narrowed suspiciously.

The Demon King had not taken his eyes off them for even one second.

~o0o~

"What did Murata want?"

Wolfram jumped at the voice. He had just entered the bedroom, thinking that it was unoccupied. He remembered hearing earlier that Yuuri had a meeting at this very hour, so he assumed that it was safe to return and pass the time here. He quickly realized that it was a bad decision.

"What did Murata want?" repeated Yuuri. He was standing by the window, creating quite an impressive profile against the waning light of the sun. It was nearly nighttime. Wolfram had successfully avoided being alone with the Demon King – or any of his immediate family members for that matter – since breakfast that morning, but now, he could see that there was no hope of escape.

Yuuri was angry. He could feel it.

Wolfram answered cautiously, "It was nothing."

Yuuri did not say anything. He held out a hand to him, beckoning him closer. Wolfram could not do anything but obey, but he stopped a foot away from the king, fists clenched into tight balls.

"Wolf," said Yuuri softly, seeming to notice his defensiveness, "What's going on?"

Wolfram meant to say 'nothing' but he was sure Yuuri wouldn't believe him. Instead, he answered, "It's not anything important—"

"Wolfram," Yuuri cut off firmly, stepping forward, reducing what little space remained between them. "I _know_ something's wrong, and I'm really at the edge of my rope here. What aren't you telling me?"

"You're over-thinking it, Yuuri," said Wolfram with an unconvincing smile. "Everything's fine, okay?"

"Fine?" Yuuri echoed skeptically, lifting a hand to cup his face, frowning when Wolfram involuntarily flinched at the contact. "Then why have you been avoiding me?"

"I haven't," lied Wolfram

Yuuri ignored his answer, asking, "Why have you been acting strangely?"

"I…" It was useless to lie. Wolfram retreated.

"And why," asked Yuuri, advancing, an ominous shadow hovering over his features, "won't you let me touch you?"

Wolfram stopped to consider the question. "You're touching me."

"You _know_ what I mean," Yuuri growled.

"I…I…i-it's n-not like that…" he stammered, blushing to the tips of his hair. "I…I j-just…"

"Just what?"

"It's not that easy to explain!"

Yuuri glowered at him. "Try me. I'm not stupid, Wolf. You think I don't see what you're doing? You're avoiding me! You don't want to be with me! You're shutting me out!"

"I didn't mean to do that—!"

"You didn't mean to?" the king repeated incredulously. "Then what on earth is your problem?"

"You don't understand! I'm not—!"

"Not what?!"

"I'm not your husband!" Wolfram finally blurted out. "I'm not him!"

The silence that followed was deafening. Yuuri seemed to be struggling with whether or not to believe him. Then his eyes narrowed dangerously. "Then who _are_ you?"

Wolfram did not know if he should feel relieved that the king seemed to believe him. "I'm—" he began, but the words were stuck in his throat as Yuuri advanced some more, his body surrounded with a threatening glow.

"What have you done with Wolfram?" the king demanded furiously. Wolfram had never seen him this angry before, and for a second, he could not decide whether he should feel flattered at the king's obvious concern, or afraid for his own life. "Speak!" Yuuri ordered. "What have you done to him?!"

"It's not like that!" Wolfram cried in frustration. "I'm still him. It's just…"

"Just what?!"

"I'm…not…"

"NOT WHAT?!" the king roared.

"I'm not from this time!" Wolfram roared back.

Yuuri slowed down, confused at his explanation. Wolfram seized his moment of hesitation and started to explain. He was sure that Murata and Shinou would not agree with this, but he felt trapped enough as it was.

Looking straight into Yuuri's eyes, he began to tell him everything.

~o0o~

"So you broke the Demon Mirror and woke up here minutes later?" asked Yuuri. He had calmed down, but he was still pacing the floor restlessly, as though he was having trouble absorbing the improbability of Wolfram's situation.

Wolfram sat down at the edge of the bed, tucking his legs beneath him. "Well yes. You…you believe me, don't you?"

Yuuri stopped to stare at him. "I'm not sure, considering that the Demon Mirror is—"

"—still in excellent condition," supplied Wolfram. "Yes, I know. His Eminence told me. Shinou said that it's proof that I was able to return."

"So that means that you returned before you broke it?" said Yuuri, eyes clouding over, as if he was remembering something from a long time ago. "Oh…I guess that would explain it." He looked at Wolfram with a wistful expression. "I remember that night. We fought, didn't we?"

Wolfram nodded.

"And then we…we ended our engagement."

"_You _ended it," corrected Wolfram.

"You agreed to it," countered Yuuri. Then he suddenly laughed. "Oh god! You must've been so confused, arriving here and finding out that we were married! Was that why you pushed me away, yesterday, at the closet?"

"What else could I have done?" Wolfram said defensively.

"And last night," said Yuuri, "when you said you can't do it—?"

"Because it didn't feel right!" Wolfram snapped. "Technically, we haven't had…we didn't…we haven't done anything of that sort before!"

Silence. Wolfram was slowly turning red again, but he noted with some satisfaction that Yuuri seemed a little embarrassed too.

"I must have seemed so forward, haven't I?" Yuuri said after a while, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

"Worse," said Wolfram, looking at the abashed king reproachfully. "You were so…lecherous. It was so…strange."

"Okay, I deserve that," conceded Yuuri. "But in my defense, I was away for three weeks. I missed Wolf—I mean—you." He grinned at Wolfram. "So…do Shinou and Murata have a plan?"

"I'm going back tomorrow," Wolfram said with a twinge of regret.

"Is that what you discussed with Murata earlier?"

"Yes," he confirmed. "He also said that when I came here, I overrode the consciousness of the future me. So I – or the Wolfram in this time – will probably resurface after I've returned to my time, but he will have no memories of these past two days."

Yuuri nodded. "That makes sense. So…what now, time traveler? You have exactly a day left here in the future. What would you like to do?"

Wolfram blinked. "Do?

Yuuri plopped down next to him. "This is a rare chance, you know. This doesn't happen to just anybody."

"But His Eminence said that I'm not supposed to know so much about the future," protested Wolfram.

"I'm not going to tell you anything that might affect the past," said Yuuri. "But we can't just stay here and stare at each other, right? And you can't keep avoiding me. Everyone's already thinking that we're separating or something." He frowned and looked at him accusingly. "Even _I _thought that you were planning to leave me."

"I would never," Wolfram said before he could stop himself. His face burned. "Er…I mean…"

"I know," said Yuuri simply, smiling at him. "You've always been so stubborn. Remember that time when Murata and I were searching for the Forbidden Boxes and you tracked me down…?"

"I would have come to you sooner if I knew exactly where you were," asserted Wolfram.

"Yeah, I know that." Yuuri regarded him affectionately. "Hey, you remember that time…"

And they spent the entire night talking about the past.

~o0o~

The next day passed by so quickly for Wolfram's liking.

He woke up alone an hour before sunrise, finding a note on the pillow beside his. _"Went out with Conrad,"_ it read, _"Be right back. Wait for me, okay?" _Wolfram smiled. Yuuri's handwriting had improved. He must have finally taken Gunter's lessons on demon calligraphy seriously.

Wide-awake now, Wolfram sat up, fingering the note for a few moments before deciding that he couldn't wait for Yuuri to come back. Eagerly, he got out of bed and got dressed.

He had no idea where Yuuri could have possibly gone, but guessing that the king must be out jogging again, Wolfram went straight to the courtyard. He found that he was right about the place, but wrong about the activity. Yuuri and Conrad weren't jogging; they were sparring.

Wolfram stopped a distance away to observe them. So much had changed, he thought after a while, watching as Yuuri parried and attacked, making it look so effortless to go against an accomplished swordsman like Conrad. Wolfram felt something stir within him, and after a moment of soul-searching, he realized that he was jealous. Not the usual Yuuri-is-spending-more-time-with-Conrad jealousy, but rather more of a bitter feeling at the fact that Yuuri – wimpy, weak-willed Yuuri who could not even ride a horse before – seemed to have developed into a much better warrior than him. Looking at the king now, Wolfram had to wonder whether he would ever catch up.

"Wolfram!"

Wolfram gave a start. Someone had crept up behind him, hooking an arm on his elbow. A smiling face behind a curtain of long, wavy brown hair looked up at him.

"G-Greta…" Wolfram gasped.

"Where have you been the other day?" Greta asked, pouting slightly. "We were supposed to visit Madam Miranda for our fitting. She's been asking where you were. And then at breakfast yesterday, you were—"

Wolfram had no idea who Madam Miranda was, or what they were supposed to be fitting for, and soon after, he lost the rest of his daughter's statement as he began to marvel at how much the girl had grown in the past nine or ten years. He stood rigidly, not knowing how to respond to any of Greta's questions. His lack of reaction might have been suspicious, but Greta failed to notice, for a second later, Gunter – who did not seem to have aged a day – came running towards them.

"Wolfram! Where have you been?" the man screeched. "You were supposed to meet the minstrel yesterday afternoon! And I need your approval on the—"

Same grating voice. Same annoying vibe. If Wolfram weren't so nervous, he would have thrown a fireball at the panicking man right then, just to shut him up.

Thankfully, he needn't have to resort to that. Yuuri had finally noticed them, and had immediately made his way to Wolfram's side.

Wolfram glanced at the king, half in irritation, and half in helplessness. Yuuri grinned. "Sorry everyone," he said with his usual cheerfulness, "but Wolf's mine for the day."

Greta and Gunter grumbled their displeasure, but it was not as if they could, or would, override the king's wishes. The only one who looked mildly approving was Conrad, who seemed content that all appeared to be well now between the king and his husband. He caught Wolfram's eye, and with a satisfied smile, he ushered both Greta and Gunter away.

"Whew," said Yuuri when they were finally alone, "that was close…Did you tell them anything?"

Wolfram shook his head. "What was the fitting that Greta was talking about?"

"For what you were both going to wear, I think," answered Yuuri. "For the ball."

"And those things that Gunter wanted from me?"

Yuuri waved his hand dismissively. "Probably just a bunch of things that you volunteered to do."

"And shouldn't I be doing them?" Wolfram asked, his infallible sense of duty rising to the fore. "If I promised to do something, it would be embarrassing if I don't follow through—what?" He uttered the last word self-consciously, for Yuuri was smiling indulgently at him.

"Nothing," said the king, lips still quirking with amusement. "I'd forgotten how…responsible…you could be at times. Now, you're less fussy about following rules and sticking to tradition and other things like that."

"I am?" asked Wolfram in slight surprise. "Must be your influence."

"Must be," Yuuri agreed. Then looking at him apologetically, he added, "So…I guess you're stuck with me for the day."

"Guess so," said Wolfram, shrugging. Deep inside though, he felt that out of all the possibilities that this future world could offer him, there was nothing more appealing than – to use the demon king's word – 'being stuck' with Yuuri for an entire day. But he wasn't about to tell him that.

Instead, Wolfram said, hiding a smile, "Shall we get going then? Yuuri?"

Yuuri took a moment to answer. The king was just standing there, staring at him, and the look on his face was just like the one he had on the other day, mere moments before he kissed Wolfram.

Wolfram flared up, shouting to mask his discomfiture, "What are you looking at, wimp?!"

The Yuuri he knew would have immediately cowered at his tone, but this Yuuri only laughed at him and reached for his elbow to pull him closer.

"Hey!" Wolfram objected. No matter how much he secretly enjoyed Yuuri's advances, he wasn't about to do anything so intimate with the king in a very public area. "I don't—"

Wolfram didn't get to finish his protest. Yuuri quickly leaned forward, but against Wolfram's expectations, the boy merely brushed the hair away from his eyes and gave him a brief and chaste kiss on the forehead. Yuuri was smiling when he pulled back.

"Don't worry," he promised. "I'll be on my best behavior."

The memory of the other night, when Yuuri had tried to make love to him, set Wolfram's cheeks aflame. "Wimp!" he muttered grumpily, turning his face away, "You better not try anything…"

"I give you my word," Yuuri answered solemnly. Then he laughed. "Besides, you're so innocent. It's cute."

Wolfram immediately took offense at being labeled 'innocent' and 'cute' – terms which were more suited for small, furry animals and young children, and certainly not for a soldier like him! He scowled. "I'm not."

Yuuri grinned but did not answer.

"I'm not!" Wolfram repeated hotly. "Hey, Yuuri!"

Yuuri merely chuckled and again said nothing, but his silence said more than words can ever say.

~o0o~

That evening, after Yuuri was done with all his duties, he and Wolfram returned to their bedroom in order to get ready for the Spring Ball. Wolfram wasn't really sure if he should be attending at all, but Murata had instructed him to be there, saying that it was important for him to be at that same place he had been at ten years ago.

It felt almost the same to him, save for the fact that Yuuri was seated at the bed, watching him fix himself in front of the mirror. Ten years ago, Yuuri had immediately fled from the room the moment that Wolfram entered, complaining that he should get changed somewhere else. But ten years later, Yuuri was still here, looking at him as though he was the only person in the world.

"What?" he asked after a second, catching Yuuri's eye from his reflection on the mirror.

Yuuri was suddenly behind him, whispering, "You're beautiful."

Wolfram watched himself in the mirror, helplessly noting the blood rising up to his face. Yuuri placed his arms around him, squeezing him gently, resting his chin on Wolfram's shoulder.

"Er…Yuuri…?" He meant to remind the boy that he had promised not to try anything inappropriate, but Wolfram's mind was blank for some reason.

"I'd like to kiss you," Yuuri offered before Wolfram could say anything. He sounded like he was asking for permission.

Wolfram felt himself shaking to his own erratic heartbeat. He always had something to say to everything, but now, he couldn't even form a single phrase, much less a single word…

"You're trembling," Yuuri observed, holding him tighter. He said lightly, "It's fine if you say no…"

Wolfram bit his lip. He knew he could decline, but…he didn't really want to. Softly, almost inaudibly, he said, "I don't mind…"

He strived to appear casual, but in the end, he only sounded scared. Yuuri held him for a few more seconds. And then he turned him around and kissed him.

~o0o~

The ball was almost the same as Wolfram remembered. There were a lot of people, girls mostly. Maybe out fishing for a rich nobleman to marry, Wolfram thought viciously. They all flocked around Yuuri.

Wolfram watched Yuuri being led away by his throng of admirers, and for a moment, he almost followed them. Then he remembered that he should be looking for Murata. He found the sage waiting impatiently by the door of the ballroom.

"You told him," the sage accused, right off the bat. "You told Shibuya the truth."

"I didn't have any choice," said Wolfram irately. "He…I mean…I _had _to tell him."

Thankfully, Murata did not press for the details, but he said warningly, "So how do you feel now?"

"What?"

"Do you still want to go back?"

Wolfram considered that for a second. Yesterday, he would have given an eye and a limb just so he could return to his time, but right now…

"You don't," said Murata flatly, examining his face. "_That _was what I was afraid of._" _

Wolfram argued, "What's wrong with that? Can't I decide not to go back? Can't I decide to just stay here?"

The sage gave him a bleak look. "That's the thing – you _can't_. Your presence here has already disturbed the balance of time itself. You don't belong here, Lord von Bielefeld."

He had been making that argument for the past days, but now that it was being used against him, Wolfram felt irrationally angry. "Yuuri wants me to stay. I'm sure he'd let me."

"He would," agreed the sage, "but you would be requiring a great sacrifice on his part. Shibuya would have to start all over again with his relationship with you. You, who do not have memories of the intervening years, will not understand him as much as he does you. That's ten years of lost memories of the times you and Shibuya spent together."

"But—"

"Lord von Bielefeld," said Murata sternly. "You have to return and live your life. You can't take a shortcut just because it would be more convenient."

Wolfram deflated. "I…I just…" He groaned unhappily and blurted out, "I just wanted Yuuri to like me. Maybe even love me. This Yuuri…he…he likes me. He wants to be with me. He watches me. He listens to me. He doesn't run away from me. He _cares_ about me. The Yuuri I know isn't like that."

"But he will be," said Murata. "Eventually. He'll grow up and realize his feelings for you, and before you know it, he'll propose again." He smiled knowingly. "Intentionally, this time. You honestly don't want to miss any of that, do you?"

Wolfram shook his head, suddenly feeling lost and confused, like a little child. He understood what the sage was telling him, and he wanted to believe, to _hope_, but well…things had never been easy between Yuuri and him.

"Cheer up," said Murata. "We have an hour left before the appointed time. Meet me in the Treasure Room later, alright?"

"Can't I come with you now?" Wolfram asked. "It's not like I have anything more to do here."

"I wouldn't be sure about that," the sage said, winking, nodding his head towards the center of the ballroom. Yuuri had just extricated himself from his admirers and was making his way towards him.

"Are you sure I should stay?" asked Wolfram uncertainly. "I might not want to return after being with him again…"

"Well," said Murata, smiling that inscrutable smile of his, "I'm sure you'll figure something out."

~o0o~

Yuuri spent the next hour with him.

It was a strange experience. Yuuri led him first to the middle of the dance floor, humming softly to himself as they twirled lazily to the music, and for the longest moment, they did not speak. Then he said, "This is just like ten years ago, isn't it?"

Wolfram scoffed. "You weren't dancing with me ten years ago."

"What exactly was I doing then?"

"Chatting up a girl."

Yuuri laughed. "Was I? Yes, I remember. What was her name again? Serena?" His eyes twinkled mischievously. "How could I have forgotten her? You made her cry, right?"

"Ha, ha," said Wolfram acidly. "I didn't do anything."

"Yeah, right," snorted Yuuri, directing them away from the crowd, right into a secluded balcony. "You might not know it, but you're quite frightening when you're angry or jealous. Or both." He shook his head in mock sorrow. "Poor girl never stood a chance."

"Stop talking like I mistreated her," Wolfram said irritably, disentangling himself from the king. "She shouldn't have been flirting with an engaged man to start with."

"Particularly one engaged to you?" Yuuri added slyly. Wolfram blushed. He looked away to hide his face, but Yuuri gently took him back in his arms, lifting his chin up. "Relax. I was just teasing you."

Wolfram gave him a questioning look. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"How did you feel about me then? And how do you feel about me now?"

Yuuri wagged a finger at him. "I can't answer the first one. You'd have to ask me – or the past me. As for the second…well, isn't it obvious? I love you."

Wolfram's heart beat a little faster. The orchestra had struck up a new piece, and smiling, Yuuri took his hand and led him into another dance. They stayed like that in comfortable silence, swaying to the faint, familiar melodies until Wolfram realized that it was probably time to go.

"You need to leave already?" Yuuri guessed when he had stopped to stare at the skies above them.

Wolfram nodded, although he didn't know whether this would work, as his primary feelings at the moment were of staying beside this man, who had just professed his love for him, forever.

He stared at Yuuri. "I…I want…" _I want to stay._

He was glad that he did not finish the statement. It was embarrassing enough, as it was. But all the same, Yuuri seemed to know what he had intended to say. He smiled, but this time, it was a rueful, reproachful smile. "You have to go, Wolf."

Wolfram tried not to look so hurt, but he must have failed, for Yuuri quickly tightened his arms around him, whispering, "Don't get me wrong. I'd love to have you forever…but you must understand that back in your time, _I'm_ also waiting." He added playfully, "And I'd hate to keep myself waiting."

He was determined not to laugh, but a chuckle escaped his lips just the same. "Wimp," he muttered.

Yuuri laughed with him. "I'll walk you out."

Hand in hand, they made their way through the crowd, out the ballroom, and right in front of the door of the Treasure Room.

"Do you want me to go in with you?" Yuuri asked.

Wolfram had thought about that, but he decided against it in the end. He should want to go back to his own time, and having Yuuri there with him might make the process impossible. "No," he answered. "Er…can I ask you one last question?"

Yuuri shrugged. "Why not?"

"How did I get you to fall for me?"

It was amazing that he had managed to ask that question without burning up, but it was something that he'd been wondering all night long. He stood patiently, waiting.

Yuuri's eyes were sparkling, but Wolfram didn't know what to make of that. "Nothing," the king finally answered. "You did nothing."

"What?"

Yuuri shook his head at him, indicating that he wouldn't be answering any more questions. Instead, he leaned down and kissed Wolfram one final time. "When you get back," Yuuri breathed against his cheek, "please, be patient with me."

"What…?" Wolfram asked, uncomprehending, mind still reeling from the kiss.

But Yuuri did not answer. He opened the door for him and wordlessly beckoned him to enter.

~o0o~

Murata and Shinou were waiting for him.

It was not a grandiose affair, traveling back in time. Wolfram was just asked to hold the Demon Mirror and think back to that night ten years ago. He did as he was told, willing himself to forget the feel of Yuuri's lips against his, assuring himself that this was the right thing to do.

Just like that night ten years ago, the Demon Mirror shone a bright yellow when he touched it. Wolfram braced himself, listening closely to Murata's instructions. And then just like before, Wolfram began to shine too.

He thought back to that night ten years ago. Yuuri dancing with that girl. Him lurking in a corner, nursing his seventh glass of wine, resentfully watching his fiancé from a distance. The light began to dim, as the thought of never going back to that reality started to run through his mind.

"Lord von Bielefeld," Murata called out warningly.

Wolfram struggled to think of the reasons why he should return. What did Yuuri – the Yuuri in this time – just tell him?

_"…but you must understand that back in your time, _I'm_ also waiting."_

Will Yuuri really be waiting for him? But he won't even know that he had been gone, right? Won't Wolfram go back right before he broke the Demon Mirror?

"The past is filled with sorrows," came Murata's voice out of the blue. "But this future happened because you made it so. Do not be afraid to go back."

"I'm not afraid," Wolfram quickly denied.

"Prove it," Murata challenged.

Wolfram held onto the Mirror, thinking, wondering, waiting…

A second later, he was gone.

~o0o~

"Maybe we should end this now."

He heard Yuuri's voice and he immediately knew that he was back. With a great effort, Wolfram tried to reorient himself with his surroundings. He remembered this. He knew what he had told Yuuri.

"Fine. Have it your way. It's what you've always wanted, isn't it?" Wolfram thought the words sounded rehearsed. He must have looked so apathetic, his expression so inconsistent with what he had just uttered.

"Wolf…" Yuuri began, stepping towards him, arms raised in a consoling manner. This time, Wolfram did not cut him off. He did not step away. He did not wave his arms angrily.

He did not break the Demon Mirror.

"It's okay," he said wearily, allowing Yuuri to pat him awkwardly in the shoulder. "I guess…it's for the best…"

"Wait a second. Are you actually…_agreeing_?" Yuuri said, half-incredulous, half-relieved.

Wolfram shrugged. "If it's for the best…" He glanced at the treasure chest beside him. The Demon Mirror was set on top of it, looking misleadingly like just another bowl. "Go back to the ballroom, Yuuri. They must be looking for you."

The Demon King hesitated. "But…what about you?"

"I'm really _tired_." He smiled at the word. "I think I'll go to back to my room."

"O-okay," said Yuuri, looking like he could not believe that this was all the reaction he was getting. "I'll see you, then?"

"Tomorrow," Wolfram answered.

"And you're really…fine?"

Wolfram did his best to smile. "I'll get over it."

"Oh." Yuuri looked disturbed. "Wolf…I'm really sorry…"

"Go back, Yuuri. I'm alright."

Yuuri still looked confused, but confronted with the earnest expression on Wolfram's face, he finally nodded and left. After the king was gone, Wolfram picked up the Demon Mirror and toyed with it for a moment. The temptation to let go of it and send it crashing to the ground was still there, but in the end, he stopped himself. Sighing, he returned the Mirror inside the safety of the large, metal chest.

Taking one last look at the Mirror, Wolfram closed the chest and secured the lock.

~o0o~

The dissolution of the Demon King's engagement with Lord Wolfram von Bielefeld took the kingdom by surprise. Nobody knew what exactly happened, but it was rumored that the separation was due to the Demon King's newly-found affections for a certain Lady Serena, who had apparently captured the young king's attention during the Spring Ball.

To his credit, Lord Wolfram took the dissolution gallantly, with none of the fiery tantrums that those around him had predicted. Instead, the young lord left Blood Pledge Castle for a few months, and rumor had it that he actually spent the time travelling across the various territories of the Demon Kingdom.

The Demon King's affair with Lady Serena fizzled out after a few weeks, and after Lord Wolfram's departure, the king spent most of his time studying with Lord von Christ or practicing swordplay with Lord Weller. He was also seen less and less in Blood Pledge Castle, and from a conversation overheard between Lord von Voltaire and Lord Weller, it appeared that the king was spending all his free moments back in the other world. It was as though he was waiting for the time to pass more quickly.

Eight months had passed, and it was only then that Lord Wolfram returned to the castle. The Demon King welcomed him eagerly, and everyone – his advisors, his friends, and even his servants – breathed a little easier. Everybody knew what a wreck the king had been during Lord Wolfram's absence.

Contrary to everyone's expectations, however, the two did not renew their engagement. They did become close friends, and had remained so for the next two years, during which both had separate affairs of their own.

The Demon King was linked to quite a number of people, mostly females, but the relationships – if one ever progressed beyond friendship – never lasted for long. In contrast, Lord Wolfram was only ever involved with one person – a minor nobleman that he met in one of his travels – and although they lasted for much longer than anyone expected, the two parted amicably in the end.

Much later, during the yearly Spring Ball, the Demon King surprised Lord Wolfram by asking him to dance. The king led his former fiancé, his dear friend, and the man he now realized he loved, to the middle of the dance floor. It was there that the Demon King, embarrassed and unsure of himself, but also determined to do what he had set out to do, slapped Lord Wolfram across the cheek. Then blushing, he got on his knee and asked the fire demon to marry him.

Lord Wolfram seemed much too surprised to react, but upon the prodding of his brothers, his overjoyed mother, and the entire populace, he smiled and nodded his acquiescence. They retired to the balcony an hour later, where they shared their first kiss and talked in length about the future.

They were married a year later, in a solemn and traditional affair that was the talk of the entire kingdom for many years to come. After the wedding ceremony, a celebration ball was conducted at the castle, where human and demon dignitaries mingled with one another – a first for a land that was once riddled with racial disputes.

Amid the enthusiastic crowd, the newly-weds surveyed everything with contentment.

"I'm glad that's over," said the Demon King to his husband. He drew him closer and planted a kiss on his hair. "But I wish we could already leave…"

"I know," answered Lord Wolfram. "But we have to cater to the guests."

"Somebody else can do that," said the king, and before his husband could argue, he had called out to Murata, who just happened to be nearby, refilling his glass of wine.

"I'll try," said the sage readily when the king told him of his wish. "But I'm not certain that I could distract everyone. They'll surely be looking for the two of you."

Lord Wolfram smiled and told him slyly, "Oh, you'll figure something out." And laughing happily, the couple sneaked out of the room.

~o0o~

The Demon Mirror stayed hidden for many years, and despite having knowledge and first-hand experience of its power, the king and his husband never once thought about using it.

The Demon King had almost forgotten about it…until one day, seven years later, he came back from a diplomatic mission and found his husband acting very strangely…

And we come full circle.

~o0o~

Wolfram woke up in the Treasure Room, confused and a bit dazed, having no memory of how he had ended up in the floor, being stared down at by a most unlikely trio – Shinou, the Great Sage, and the Demon King.

The king smiled down at him. "Welcome back, Wolf."

"What…happened…?" he asked, trying to stand up.

Yuuri said, "You honestly don't remember?"

It took a while, but the comprehension soon dawned in Wolfram's eyes. "This…this was the day, was it? So that really happened? I…remember but I wasn't sure at all if I had just dreamed all of that…"

Yuuri helped him up. "Well, it did happen. Why didn't you ever tell me about this?"

"You wouldn't have believed me," said Wolfram. He added, glancing at Murata and Shinou for confirmation, "Besides, you wouldn't let me, right?"

Shinou nodded. Murata smiled, glasses gleaming in the darkness.

"Well I'm glad that's over," said Yuuri, drawing his husband close, taking in the scent of his hair. "I'm so happy you're back."

Wolfram smirked. "The past me gave you a hard time?"

"A little," Yuuri replied, laughing. "I missed you."

"Ahem," interrupted Murata before Wolfram could respond. "You two better return to the ballroom. We'll clean up." The couple obeyed, walking hand in hand out the room. As the door closed behind the two, Murata picked up the Demon Mirror and turned to Shinou. "So, what shall we do with this thing?"

"Leave it here," answered Shinou.

"I think we should put it in a safer place," Murata disagreed. "Some other person could find this and—"

"Leave it here," Shinou repeated.

Murata eyed his companion suspiciously. "Shinou, you…"

Shinou smiled. "I had fun."

Murata groaned, but his expression was more amused than infuriated. "To draw pleasure from such a situation…you have strange preferences, you know that?"

"What was that human quote about birds of the same feather…?" Shinou trailed off suggestively.

"Fine." Murata shrugged, eyes straying to the door. "But to tell you the truth…" he chuckled to himself, "…I had fun, too."

~o0o~

There is little left to be said about the events that took place next.

Despite Shinou's suggestion, Murata arranged for the Demon Mirror to be transferred to another location, where it would hopefully stay safely out of sight, out of reach of any person. But as previous events had just shown, accidents happen all the time, and despite all precautions, somebody else discovered the Mirror and picked it up, unaware of its power…

…and to make a long story short, the Demon Mirror was broken for a second time.

But that's a story for another day.

~o0o~

**END**

~o0o~

_A/N: Anthology – as the name suggests – will be (or at least, I hope it will be) a collection of short stories utilizing the different characters in the KKM universe. Mirror, Mirror is the first story._

_The premise of this story is nothing new – a person dissatisfied with his life suddenly found himself at a time and place where his deepest desire appeared to have come true. I remember a movie I'd watched a long, long time ago, where the heroine travels to a world inside a magic mirror, finding a happier, more carefree version of the life she had been living on the other side. I wanted a KKM story like that, but with a lighter, feel-good-ish feel to it, and so this story eventually came about. I thought it would have made an interesting multi-chaptered story, but I decided against starting another one, seeing that I already have two WIP stories that I needed to finish. (Yes, I haven't forgotten those.) _

_I have taken a few liberties with some information contained in this story, particularly those dealing with the Demon Mirror's history. Wolfram explained it better (and more accurately) in an episode in Season 3, but try as I may, I couldn't find that particular episode, so I had to make things up as I go. _

_Looking back at the story, I thought that there isn't really much depth in it, which I realized was the downside of making it a one-shot (or two-shot?). But I thought it made a satisfying read nonetheless, which should hopefully make up for its lack of complexity. _

_Thanks for reading!_


	3. Someone Like You (1 of 4)

**Anthology – Alternate Universe**

**Genre: **Romance, AU

**Pairings: **YuurixWolfram, YuurixOC, WolframxOC

**Warnings: **Slash. Sexual innuendos and some improbable scenarios of the type that might possibly happen in a novel or a manga, but not very likely in real life.

**Summary: **Yuuri's getting married. And Wolfram's invited.

~o0o~

**SOMEONE LIKE YOU**

**(Part 1)**

~o0o~

**Prologue**

~o0o~

**_Yuuri Shibuya_**

_"What went wrong with us?" _

_The question caught me off-guard. _

_"I don't know, Wolf…"_

_"Yuuri…" _

_The way he whispered my name made me feel oddly hot. I loosened my tie and tried to keep my breathing steady. Wolfram looked up, his eyes gleaming in the darkness, much like a cat's. _

_"Was it our families?" _

_"My mom loves you," I pointed out._

_"Well, so does mine," said Wolfram, before adding with a slight sneer, "Your brother hates me though."_

_"Well, so does yours," I retorted._

_"Gwendal does," Wolfram conceded, "but certainly not Conrad."_

_"Yeah, but I've only got one brother. What am I supposed to do?" _

_Unexpectedly, Wolfram laughed and let out that dear, familiar word in amusement. "Wimp."_

_I laughed too, the atmosphere lightening considerably, almost like ice melting. Wolfram leaned towards me, resting his head on my shoulder, and I automatically put my arms around him. _

_"You smell good," Wolfram said unexpectedly. He brought his face nearer to mine, and I caught a strong whiff of alcohol from his breath. _

_"You're drunk, aren't you?" I held him back at arm's length to examine his face. "How many glasses did you have exactly?"_

_"Not much." He let out an un-Wolfram-ish giggle and reached up to ruffle my hair. "Did I ever tell you that you look good in a tuxedo?"_

_"You _are_ drunk," I told him nonchalantly, although I felt my face getting hot at that compliment. "You better go to sleep." _

_Wolfram shook his head. "Funny, isn't it? I thought I'd forgotten about you, but here I am again. Why do you still have this much effect on me?" _

_I couldn't think of anything to say to that. A moment later, I could hardly think of anything at all. Wolfram drew closer and our lips met for the briefest second. It was no more than a light peck, but a crushing wave of electricity flowed from my lips, to the rest of my body. I sat there, a bit stunned. I wanted to push him away, but the images that appeared inside my head were so very tempting…and yet I…I… _

_My body was on fire. Wolf's skin was so warm against mine._

_Wolf drew nearer, sending a fresh wave of heat through my veins. Instinctively, as though my body was acting on memory, my arms moved, coming to a rest around his waist. I shifted to get a better position._

_We kissed, and this time, I was the one who moved forward._

_"I hate myself," Wolfram said when we parted. _

_"I'm sorry…" I worried my lip and added ruefully, "I shouldn't have asked you to come." _

_"Well, it's too late for that."_

_"You don't have to be there tomorrow…"_

_"Don't be silly. It's your wedding…"_

_The last word hung heavily in the air. I held him tightly, not knowing what else to do to make everything easier for both of us. "Wolf…"_

_He cut me off with another kiss, deeper and more intense than the last, and it was nearly enough to make me forget that we weren't lovers anymore. I doubt if you could even call us friends. I ignored the fire that was rapidly spreading through the rest of my body, held Wolf by the shoulders, and moved to push him away. _

_But Wolfram's voice stopped me._

_"Don't. Please."_

_I froze. "Wolf…"_

_"I'm drunk," he reminded me with an unconvincing stab at a joke. "I seemed to have lost my manners. And my sense of decency."_

_I didn't know whether to laugh or tell him off. I settled by warning him, "You'll regret this when you're sober."_

_"Probably," he replied, "but I think I'll regret it even more if I don't do this now."_

_"Wolfram…" _

_I'm not sure what my face looked like then, but it must have been bad enough for Wolfram to back off and release me. I noticed that he was shaking a bit._

_"I'm sorry," he muttered softly. "I…I just…I…" He shook his head – a blur of gold in the shadows. "I'm being stupid. I…I have to go."_

_It must have taken him a lot of self-control to say that. I stared at him for two or three seconds before deciding that I couldn't let him leave. At least not like this. _

_I didn't budge. Neither did he. _

_"Stay if you want to," I told him quietly._

_Wolfram's expression was hard to read, and when he pushed me to the bed and kissed me again, I didn't stop him._

~o0o~

** (ONE MONTH AGO)**

~o0o~

**Chapter 1: Of Weddings and Proposals**

~o0o~

**Yuuri Shibuya**

_"Will he come?"_

The question haunted me as I climbed up the stairs to the second floor of the restaurant. And while my eyes scoured the crowded tables for any sign of my companions, my mind continued to ponder upon the sanity (or lack thereof) of what I'd just done.

"Oi! Shibuya!"

"Over here, Yuuri!"

At the sound of my name, I turned towards a table at the far corner, waving back to the familiar pair seated around it. I made my way towards them, wondering how to break the news, knowing that they would neither agree nor understand why I'd even bothered to do something that I'd surely lose a lot of sleep over. But it wasn't as if I could keep something like this to myself for very long. I _had_ to tell them.

"You're late," Shori, my older brother, said with a grin. "Hope you're not hungry."

I rolled my eyes at him and settled on the last empty seat. The remains of what appeared to be a sumptuous lunch were spread out on the table before me; I seemed to have missed the sea bass, the miso soup, and a bowl of something that now only contained a single slice of asparagus.

"We can order some more if you want to," said the second person on the table. Ken Murata, a good friend of mine, was wiping his mouth delicately on a napkin. "What took you so long, anyway?"

That was my cue. "Well," I said, sighing. "I finally did it."

Their reactions were so hilarious that I didn't even have the heart to be offended. Shori, who was just finishing his meal, choked on a slice of fish and started to cough violently. Beside him, Murata's fork fell against his plate with a noisy clang; he was gaping at me in wordless incredulity, as if I'd just told him that the food they'd just consumed was poisoned.

"W-wha—cht?" cried Shori incoherently, face already red from the effort it took to dislodge the food from his throat.

"You did what?" Murata asked in a clearer voice, his hand moving mechanically to tap Shori on the back. He must have struck him harder than he intended, because Shori nearly collapsed face first on the table, upsetting a cup of tea and spilling its murky contents all over his front.

"I did it," I repeated, fighting down the urge to laugh. "I sent Wolfram the invitation."

We had been arguing over this for the past week, and that entire time, both Murata and Shori had assured me that it was an incredibly stupid idea. But stubborn and reckless as I was, I did it anyway, just because…well…because despite everything that happened between us, Wolfram was still my friend…my best friend, in fact. It didn't seem right to leave him out of such a very important event in my life.

"When?" asked Murata.

"Just now," I told him. "Before I came here." I had sealed the embossed envelope, and before I could change my mind, I had shoved it into Conrad's hands and had asked him to please ensure that the letter made it to Wolfram on time. "I invited Cheri-san and Conrad. It's not as if I could leave Wolf out. And besides, I'm sure he'd find out eventually, so I thought it'd be better if the news came from me…"

"Are you mad?" Shori demanded, too upset at my news to even bother to clean himself up. "You really want _him_ there?"

I shrugged. "He's my friend—"

"Was," Shori pointed out. "Past tense."

I wanted to disagree, but I know deep down that my brother was right. Besides, I couldn't really blame Shori for reacting this way. Truth be told, I was beginning to wonder myself if I'd done the most sensible thing by reaching out to Wolfram after three long, silent years. I wonder how he'd respond to my invitation, or if he'd even answer at all.

I sank deeper into my chair.

Every person has some form of unfinished business in his or her life – a deep-kept secret, a personal ghost, a skeleton in the closet…you get the idea. And Wolfram…Wolfram is my unfinished business.

Wolf and I sort of grew up together. His mother moved to the house next to ours when I was just eight. Cheri-san was really beautiful and glamorous and all that, with hair of gold and eyes as green as emeralds. She was every bit what I imagined a goddess would look like, and I adored her from the very first sight. But she was the type of woman that the neighbors called "loose." I didn't really know what the word meant at the time, but I'd soon come to realize that it had to do with her having three kids from three different men. She was never married.

Cheri-san's kids didn't really live with her. They just came to visit her during vacations. The first six months after she moved in, I got to meet two of her sons, Gwendal and Conrad. Gwendal was the serious one, the one who always kept to himself, who was usually locked up in his room reading, writing, and – believe it or not – _knitting. _Weird stuff mostly. I didn't really talk to him that much. Conrad, on the other hand, was the friendly one, the one who was patient enough to baby-sit me when my parents and brother were busy. We'd always play baseball, and he'd tell me stories about the countries he'd lived in. There were quite a number, considering that Conrad was just about Shori's age. He told me that his dad really traveled a lot, and he'd always take Conrad along with him.

Over time, Cheri-san and her sons became like part of our family. Mom treated her like the sister she never had, and I came to see Conrad (and even Gwendal, to a certain extent) like brothers. Dad and Shori took a little more time to warm up to them, but left with no choice since mom and I practically adopted them into the family, they eventually did.

It was only a year later, when I turned nine, that I met the youngest of Cheri-san's children. Wolfram, I quickly found out, was the family's spoiled little prince. He was three years older than I was, and that time, he was on vacation, straight from an exclusive boarding school on the south of France.

Meeting him for the very first time, I was a little bit jealous. I think anyone would feel insecure at his face, because he looked so much like a copy of his mother in every way – pale, blond, and perfect. I never even knew that you could describe a guy as 'beautiful' until I met him. I once saw this postcard of a Vienna boys' choir, and I thought Wolfram looked like he could fit right in. Or he could be a movie star. Or an angel. Or a god.

But unlike Cheri-san's other kids, I didn't get along with Wolfram immediately. He was too aloof and snooty to start with, and he didn't know a single thing about baseball. I think he disliked me, although I could never figure out why. I suspected sometimes that he was jealous because his mom and brothers were spending more time with me, but then he'd always keep on yelling at them whenever they were together. It was so confusing to deal with Wolfram, and so I kept out of his way as best as I could.

Things heated up eventually, when Wolfram made a snide comment about me and my mom – how I was a wimp who couldn't survive without somebody baby-sitting him, and how my mother couldn't even teach me not to impose my presence on other people. I wasn't the sort who'd get angry so easily, but hauling my mom into the discussion was a dirty move, and I just snapped.

I couldn't bring myself to hit someone with such a pretty face. I mean, you don't strike a girl when you're mad at her, and Wolfram looked so much like one, and so I did what I thought was a more acceptable move. I slapped him. That shut him up, and I had a few seconds of grim satisfaction before he scowled and hit me squarely in the eye.

Wolfram didn't look like he had it in him to pack a punch like that, so that took me completely by surprise. I remember going back to our house that afternoon and trying to explain to my mother how I got a really terrible black eye. I didn't tell her the truth. I was too ashamed to admit that a girly-looking boy got a piece of me. Fortunately, Mom was the sort of person who'd believe in anything, so I hatched her a little tale of how I bumped my face against a tree because I was trying to save a cute little bunny who – for some impossible reason – had gotten itself stuck at a really high branch.

She totally bought it.

I didn't go over to the house next door for the next three days. But then at the fourth day, Conrad came by, bringing Wolfram along with him. To my astonishment, the brat actually apologized to me, although I couldn't really be sure of his sincerity. I realized later on that that was a big move for him, as he really wasn't used to saying sorry. Anyway, Wolf was quite cute when he wasn't being snobby or angry, and before I knew it, I'd accepted his apology. We didn't really talk much after that, but at least we never tried to hit each other again.

I saw Wolf intermittently in the next years, when he'd come for his summer and winter breaks. Gwendal didn't return all that often, especially after he entered the military. As for Conrad, he went to live with his father for a while, and I saw him less frequently than I would've wanted.

The year that I turned twelve, Wolf's father passed away, and he came to live with Cheri-san permanently. He told me that he'd just escaped the clutches of his uncle, who wanted Wolf to go to Germany with him. I actually saw Wolf's uncle once, when he came in his chauffeur-driven limo, supposedly to get Wolfram back. He and Cheri-san had a row right outside the house, and listening in, I unintentionally found out more about Wolf's family.

As it turned out, Wolfram's father was _incredibly _rich – one of the richest in Europe in fact, that he was practically royalty – and Wolf was the sole heir. The uncle wanted to take Wolf away to be trained in the family business, but Cheri-san didn't want to. They must've shouted at each other hoarse for one whole hour before the man finally left. I think Cheri-san must've won, because Wolf stayed with her since then.

Wolfram and I became close friends through the years that he stayed in Japan. Nobody could really understand why because we had virtually nothing in common. He was too beautiful; I was just plain. He was interested in the arts; I was into sports. He was filthy rich; I didn't have a single yen to my name.

Despite that, we came to enjoy each other's company. I taught him how to play baseball (he sucked at it), and he forced me to try my hand at painting (_I_ sucked at it). Oftentimes however, we'd just take a walk somewhere and talk about random things that happened at school, or at home. It eventually became pretty much like a routine for us, and after a while, we became much closer to each other.

Like I said earlier, Wolfram was my best friend.

But then, just as things so often do when people grow up, everything changed.

I couldn't remember when I started to feel awkward and self-conscious having him around me. I seemed to have gone to sleep one day with everything in its normal state, and then I woke up the following morning and…and I started looking at Wolfram in a completely different way. Suddenly, I felt so uncomfortable touching him, having _him_ touch _me_…

I avoided Wolf after that, but of course, he wouldn't have any of it. He barged into my room one night, demanding in that bossy tone of his why I was staying away from him. Taken by surprise like that, I lost my nerve and I just confessed, in the plainest words possible, what had been bothering me.

I could still remember that flabbergasted look on his face, and that odd smile he'd had when he'd asked, "You…you have _feelings_ for me?"

I hadn't said it that way, but I just nodded. It meant the same thing anyway. I felt weird being around him.

"You mean you _like_ me?" Wolf had asked, eyes wide.

I bobbed my head again. Of course I liked him. I wouldn't have put up with his tantrums if I didn't, right?

That was when Wolf said the words, "I like you a lot, too."

I felt both warm and cold all over. I felt that something had gone terribly wrong, and that I had just been misunderstood, but I was afraid to say a single word. Wolfram hugged me then, which wasn't really unnatural. We'd been this close before. But then, Wolfram put his hands on my cheeks and lifted my face up, and I think I blacked out.

All I knew was that was the very first time that we kissed.

After that day, we decided to become much more than friends…well, _Wolf_ decided, actually. I just went along with it because I couldn't tell him no. And besides, if I were to be honest with myself, it wasn't really that bad. We were still friends – we still talked like always, still hang out like always. It was like nothing had really changed…just that we were…touching each other much more than usual…in less than innocent ways…

I was fine with it for a while – for a few weeks, a few months – for as long as the fact that we were going out together was kept between us. But of course, Wolfram had other ideas. He didn't really care what everyone else would say – he was self-absorbed that way – but not me. I was eighteen then, and I was way too self-conscious at how the world would react to our relationship, knowing that most people would neither understand nor accept us.

I guess that I was more at fault with how our relationship ended. We were together for the better part of three years, with only our close friends and family members knowing the exact nature of our relationship. We never told them, but I imagine it became sort of obvious as time passed. I think Wolfram was waiting for all that period for me to acknowledge him publicly, but I…I just couldn't. Then I turned twenty-one, but still, I was too much of a coward to do what Wolfram wanted, to be what he needed.

I am now twenty-four, and all I want is a chance to patch things up between us, especially now that I'm about to venture out into a new stage of my life. I need closure, and I'm sure Wolf does too.

"Does Reiko know?" Murata asked, rousing me from my memories. "Did you tell her that you invited Wolfram?"

Reiko. The name made me wince, as though somebody had just punched me in the gut.

I couldn't bring myself to tell Reiko anything. I'm sure she'd understand but I just couldn't bear the thought of having to hurt her. She was the best thing that ever happened to me since…well…since Wolfram. I never thought that I'd come to care for someone as much as I did for Wolfram, but then I met Reiko. That was about two years ago, during our high school reunion, and ever since, we were inseparable. It didn't take me long to realize that I loved her. It took me less time to decide to propose to her…and now, after a year of engagement, we were about to get married.

And I sent Wolfram an invitation.

"Does Reiko know?" repeated Murata.

"Of course," I said indignantly. "Who do you think insisted that I invite him?"

Shori and Murata both fell silent. They glanced at each other, then back at me, both with identical dubious expressions. I squirmed in discomfort under their scrutiny, unable to meet either of their eyes.

After an awkward second, Murata said slowly, "Reiko…she doesn't know, does she?"

I cringed. My brother quickly pounced on my reaction and accused, "You didn't tell her?"

"She knows that Wolf's my best friend," I said, unable to skirt the issue, "which isn't completely a lie, right? He really _is – _or_ was – _my friend."

"It isn't completely the truth either," said Shori disapprovingly. "I mean, that brat's also your _boyfriend_!"

"Was," I said sullenly, "Past tense, Shori."

"Who does that?" ranted Shori, ignoring me. "Who invites an ex-boyfriend to his wedding and lies to his fiancée about it? Are you out of your mind?"

"I can't take it back, okay?"

"But will he come?" Murata interjected, echoing my earlier thoughts. "He might not want to. Wasn't your break-up…you know…_messy_?"

"Messy" was the right term. The night that everything ended, Wolfram and I were both drunk, and we'd both said some truly hurtful things to each other. I couldn't really remember how the fight began, just that the word "marriage" was somehow involved and that I'd offended Wolfram with my reaction. Then we made the mistake of riding in the same car together (Wolf was driving) and ended up crashing into the front window of a coffee shop. No one was hurt, but that basically placed an end to our relationship.

I made a face, remembering that the last time I'd seen Wolfram, he had looked at me with disgust and some other emotion that could probably be hatred. I knew that we parted with him _loathing_ me, and it just dawned on me then that Shori and Murata, as per usual, were right. Inviting Wolfram to my wedding _was_ a stupid idea.

All of a sudden, I felt so tired. I thought that three years were more than enough to heal the wounds we'd inflicted on each other…perhaps enough to bridge the gap Wolf and I had created between us, but…maybe it wasn't after all.

"Maybe he won't come," Murata said.

"He better not come," muttered Shori. He didn't get along with Wolfram, but he liked Reiko and treated her like a little sister.

I didn't know what to say. I just know that I hate pretending as if Wolfram didn't exist. I hate going about my life as if Wolfram hadn't been a part of it. I hate not talking to him. I hate it that he hates me. I hate it that I didn't get a decent goodbye from him.

_"Will he come?"_

The question returned to haunt me. _'Will you come, Wolfram?_' I asked inside my head. Maybe not, but now I know for sure that I…I want him to. I want to see him again. I want to hear his voice again. I want to touch him again.

I miss him.

~o0o~

**Wolfram von Bielefeld**

I was staring at the darkening skyline ahead, paying only the slightest bit of attention to the cars zooming alongside me, rocketing so fast that they were mere blurs in my peripheral vision. My hands were on the steering wheel, knuckles white with tension. My vision was fuzzy…as though I was close to crying…although I could not understand—

_"Wolfram!" _

Someone was seated next to me. His dark eyes were wide with panic, and he was shouting my name in a tone that was somewhere between a plea and a warning. I stared at this apparition, and right there and then, I realized that I must be dreaming. To have _this_ particular person with me right now was highly improbable. No, impossible. Still, that did not help to diffuse the succeeding noise and images of tires screeching, glass breaking, people yelling, the person beside me screaming—

I reached out in terror, knowing that he was about to get terribly hurt, and yet I…I couldn't…I _wouldn't_…

_"Wolfram, please!"_

I ignored the plea and took my hands off the wheel. The second that I let go, I felt my entire body lurching into the air. I was not wearing my seatbelt. I soared through the glass, breaking through it as if it were made of ice. I was suspended in midair for one terrifying millisecond. Then I crashed. Face down. On the pavement.

I could hear the thud of a dozen feet above me. Through the commotion, I tried to open my eyes to see what became of my companion, but I only saw shards of glass and fragments of twisted metal. My head was pounding.

_"Wolfram…"_

My name was uttered in a groan, the sound emanating from somewhere to my right. I willed my head to turn, freezing as soon as I realized what I was looking at.

A body, crooked at an awkward angle.

Something white sticking out of a broken arm.

The black of his hair obscured red with copious amounts of blood…

That was the moment when I finally found my voice. 

_"YUURI!"_

I shouted for him. Reached for him. Cried for him to look at me. But his black eyes lost some of their luster, and after a moment, they fluttered shut. Fear shot through my veins. I was paralyzed at the horrifying thought that I might have just killed him…my best friend…the person I love…

I screamed for him until my voice grew hoarse. Until the entire world faded into a dizzying mirage of metal and glass and blood. Until the screams died down and I could no longer see or hear. Until the only thing left inside me was a terror so debilitating that I could not even cry.

"Wolfram?"

The voice freed me from my immobility. I opened my eyes, sitting bolt upright in the next instant, mouth open in a silent scream. But I was not in the car. I was not even in the pavement.

I was in bed.

"Wolfram? Are you okay?"

A hand started stroking my back, and slowly, I began to relax. _Everything's fine_, I thought. It was just a dream, a nightmare. I leaned into the hand that held me and allowed its owner to plant a trail of soothing kisses down my neck.

"You okay?" he asked me again.

I nodded, not trusting my voice at the moment. I took several deep breaths to calm myself, to force myself to accept the reality that I was not inside that car anymore. That was three years ago, during my last year in Japan. Why on earth did I have that dream again?

More to distract myself, I looked over at my companion, noting that he was not dressed yet.

"Damien," I muttered exasperatedly. "What are you still doing here?" The morning light was muted against the blinds, but I could tell that it was already late. "Aren't you going to work?"

Damien waved me off, his arms snaking around my waist. He was naked. We both were. "I'll call in sick," he answered dismissively. "What did you dream about?"

I stiffened, remembering my nightmare, and I answered curtly, "Japan."

Damien seemed to understand, although I have not told him anything about my stay in that country. It was not the sort of thing I would talk about with somebody I had known for only a few months and had gone out with for only three weeks – not the sort of thing I would willingly bring up, period. But Damien works in our company, and I am pretty sure he had heard some of the hundred or so rumors about me – the prodigal son who would not attend his father's funeral, the ungrateful nephew who spurned his uncle's offers of a better life, the irresponsible heir who opted to live in exile in another country rather than face his duties as the son of the company's deceased president…

Since I returned to Germany three years ago, a slew of unflattering gossips kept hounding me wherever I went. My reputation was shot to hell even before I could properly build one, and after a few weeks of trying to fit in with the people around me, I gave up and decided to just direct all my attention to my job. After what I had just been through with Yuuri, I desperately needed the distraction. Conrad warned me that I was becoming too much of a workaholic like Gwendal, but I don't give a sh—

"Who is Yuuri?"

I cringed at the name. Yuuri Shibuya...

In my mind, Yuuri will forever be the boy who lived next door, the one person I had really loved with unrelenting devotion. It still stings a little to think about him, although it had been such a long time – three years! – since we broke up. Yuuri had been my best friend – my only friend, in fact – and later on, we became so much more, although I realize now that I sort of coerced him into it. For years, I deluded myself into believing that we had a relationship, that what we had was not just a one-sided affair…but despite that…well…I guess it was never supposed to be. I guess we were just wrong for each other, or more specifically, _I _was wrong for _him_. It was hard for me to finally come to terms with that, but after nearly killing Yuuri in that car accident, I had no choice but to give him up.

I shook my head to rid myself of these thoughts, wondering what had prompted me to reminisce about such things after three long years. I bit my lip. It was when Yuuri and I broke up that I finally decided to return to my uncle and start working for him. I was twenty-four then.

"Wolfram?" Damien's arms tightened around me. I blinked, remembering his question.

"How did you…?" I meant to ask how he came about Yuuri's name, but then I realized that I must have spoken it aloud in my sleep.

"You were muttering that name in your sleep," Damien said, confirming my fears.

I flushed. What other embarrassing things had I unwittingly divulged just now? I knew I should not have allowed Damien to stay last night, but it was way too late to regret anything.

I had been in a very foul mood yesterday. One of the temps at work messed up a report, and I had the unfortunate pleasure of presenting the erroneous data to a bunch of American businessmen that we had been dealing with. If successful, the presentation would have led to a deal, which in turn, would have meant the expansion of our business abroad. Now that was all gone. I had to fire the temp, of course – a thing that he, and all his friends at work, did not take too lightly. Simply put, I was not my subordinates' favorite person yesterday – not that I ever was.

The only person at the company who seemed to like me was Damien. He had always been a bit too…different. Too…audacious. While the others tended to avoid me, Damien gravitated towards me and actually had the nerve to ask me out. I was amused at his brazenness, and the fact that he did not care at all who I was, that I eventually accepted his invitation.

Damien had invited me out again last night, and since I had no better option of spending the evening – save for some half-formed plans of tracking down that stupid temp and beating him to a pulp – I went with Damien for dinner and a few drinks. In the end, I had been so intoxicated that I wound up in the passenger's seat, giving Damien directions to my apartment. I think he did a pretty good job of following my instructions, considering that I had been sliding in and out of sobriety for most part of the journey.

We had been seeing each other for nearly a month now, but it was only last night that I allowed him to take me back to where I live. As a matter of personal policy, I never bring people home. It was my private space, and I do not feel very comfortable having a stranger around. Considering our recent activities however, it was laughable to even qualify Damien as a stranger.

"Wolfram?" Damien murmured, nibbling lightly at my shoulder. Then with a bluntness that I was just slowly getting used to, he added, "You want to forget about…it?"

I had the strangest feeling that he was about to say 'him.' Before I could say anything, his hands shimmied down to the center of my thighs, drifting lower deliberately.

"We could both skip work today, what do you say?"

At the mention of 'work,' I immediately came to my senses, remembering that there were several things that I needed to look into today. I had to at least _try_ to get the American account back, even if my chances were very slim at the moment.

"No, I'm sorry," I said, extricating myself from my companion's busy hands before I get sidetracked, and got off the bed. A trail of discarded clothes lay higgledy-piggledy across the floor, where we had both thrown them in abandon in our haste to get to the bed the night before.

I picked up my shirt from where it had landed, atop the drawer, and pulled it over my head. "You should get changed and get to work," I told Damien. "You don't want word going around that—"

"—that I'm screwing around with the boss' nephew?" he finished candidly, eyes twinkling with mirth. "I don't care, actually. I think I might just hang around and help you."

"I don't need help," I said coldly, hoping to convey by my tone of voice that I was not in any mood for company. I wrapped a robe around myself, and then seized another and chucked it towards him. I added, a bit annoyed, "Get dressed and get out."

"Why are you always in such a hurry to get rid of me?" he asked, looking slightly miffed.

"Look, I have things to do—"

"I know," he interrupted. "Like I said, I could help you."

He ignored the robe, stood up, and grabbed his bag from where he had left it, beside the door. He rummaged inside it for something, then faced me again with a strange smile, waving a short, thin folder in the air.

I crossed my arms. "Am I supposed to know what that is all about?"

Damien traipsed towards me, extremely distracting in his nudity, and offered me the file. "Here," he said, suddenly businesslike. "I think you'd find everything in order."

"What?"

"You're going to take another shot at the Americans, right?" Damien guessed. "That's everything you're going to need." He grinned at my skeptical expression. "It's accurate, I can assure you. I did it myself."

There was a note of confidence there. "How did you even know what I was planning to do?"

"I just do," Damien answered simply. He brushed his hair back with his fingers, trying in vain to tame the brown strands that stuck out at awkward angles off the side of his head. He smiled impishly at me. "You're quite easy to read, you know that?"

The way he looked at me made me feel so…_exposed_. I pulled my robe tightly around myself, seized with a sudden desire to cover as much of my body as I could. Damien looked amused.

"So," he said, still smiling, "would you at _least _offer me a spot of breakfast?"

"I don't cook," I said gruffly. I eat out or order my meals from the café across the street.

Damien seemed to expect that. "I sort of figured that out. Your kitchen is practically empty."

"You've been into my kitchen?"

"I was curious," he said, much to my annoyance. "What about coffee?"

"Damien," I said, now frustrated, "you _really_ need to leave." His smile faltered. I turned around, taking the folder with me. "Get dressed," I repeated, as I made my way to the bathroom. A shower first, a cup of coffee, and then down to business. "When I come out, you shouldn't be here."

"Wolfram, wait…"

"What?"

"I love you."

My mind had already skipped to what I should be doing for the rest of the day, that I nearly missed Damien's response. When the words finally registered inside my head, I screeched to a halt and glanced back at him in surprise. Did he just say what I heard he did?

"What did you say?" I asked with foreboding.

Damien repeated, "I love you." He took a step towards me and repeated for good measure, "Wolfram, I'm in love with you." Then he smiled ruefully. "Damn it. I meant to find a better way to say that, but…well…"

It took me a minute or so to recover. "You must be joking…"

"I'm not."

I tried to think of an appropriate response, but in the end, all I could do was shake my head in disapproval. "One month isn't enough to jump to any conclusion on how you feel about anything," I scolded him. "You can't just tell me that you love me after that span of time."

Call me old-fashioned, but that was how I see it. There was no such thing as love at first sight. At least I no longer believed in it.

Damien gazed intently at me. "It wasn't just a month."

"What?"

"You really don't remember me at all, do you?

The question made me cautious. Damien Schwarz. What should I remember about him? I knew that he was a freelancer whom my uncle engaged to do some part-time work for the company. I knew that he joined the company about a year before I did, and that he was assigned overseas. He mentioned that he moved to the London branch some months after his first assignment, and that he requested for transfer to the main one just a year ago. I also remember that he was of American descent. He spoke English with a slight accent, but was fluent in both German and French.

But other than those things that I remember from his résumé, I drew up with a blank. I do not know the place or day he was born, or if he had brothers and sisters, or whether he was even single in the first place. It struck me then how little I actually knew – and bothered to find out – about the guy I had just slept with. It made everything so painfully awkward.

"Wolfram…" Damien seemed embarrassed for some reason. "I've known you for longer than a month. To start with, I've had a hand in most of your projects for the past year. When I was still in England, we've corresponded for a bit. Remember the Tobias account?"

I did, and my eyes widened slightly in remembrance. "You were on that project?"

Damien nodded. "We've also seen each other occasionally, mostly during major company functions, but we didn't really talk. Well, _you_ never talked to _me_, but I did approach you a few times. Remember that affair at the Belgian embassy…?"

"Oh," I said weakly. I did attend a party there, nearly two years ago. A masquerade of sorts. I remember leaving very early, because the event reminded me so much of a similarly-themed festival I attended back in Japan with…with Yuuri…

"I asked you to dance," Damien continued with a wistful smile, "but you said you were leaving early. And…" He hesitated. "Well, I'll let you remember the rest…"

There were more? I blinked, utterly bewildered. How could I have so many encounters with a guy and end up _not_ remembering him? Warning bells started to ring inside my head. I decided to go out with Damien particularly because he was safe – no strings attached, no expectations, none of the complications arising from getting involved far beyond what was physical…but with this…this was _not_ good. I do not think I can handle this.

He seemed to guess what I was thinking. He gazed at me with determination and said earnestly, "I'd like to see you again. I'd like another date…other moments…just like the previous weeks…just like last night…"

I turned red, the memories of our exertions the night before flashing vividly before my eyes. Damien seemed to be reliving the same things. He closed the gap between us in three quick, resolute strides, and trapped me against the bathroom door.

"I was hoping that you'd finally notice me – or recognize me at least. But I guess I never made any lasting impression on you, did I?"

I shook my head, both in denial and in confusion.

Damien looked momentarily depressed, then he shrugged and moved to kiss me. "No matter. At least you're now paying attention, right?"

"W-wait," I gasped, flustered at his confession. "I don't think I—"

"You don't think what?"

"I can't—" I started to say, but Damien just sighed and leaned forward just the same, brushing his lips gently against mine.

"Be reasonable, Wolfram," he murmured. "You can't just refuse without even giving this a chance."

That was extremely logical. I looked at him doubtfully.

"Why don't you go out with me for _real_?" He said the last word with emphasis, smothering any complaint I might have with another kiss. "If you still don't want anyone to know, then I could live with it. I'll be discreet. I won't tell your uncle…" His eyes bore into mine and I could feel myself giving in. "I just want _you_…"

Despite the fact that my body felt all too willing to agree, my brain kicked into gear and I managed a disparaging scoff. "You're blackmailing me for sex? Isn't that a bit low, Damien?"

It was his turn to look exasperated. "Don't be an idiot, Wolfram," he said severely, pulling back. "I meant I want _all_ of you." He paused. "I want to be with you. Forever."

My jaw fell open at those words. That sounded eerily like a…a _wedding proposal_…

Damien smiled, and without giving me time to reply or even comment on the absurdity of what he had just said, he changed the topic. "I'll make us coffee. You do own a cup, don't you?"

I nodded dumbly, failing to add that cutlery was just about everything I have around the kitchen. I had not bothered to drop by the supermarket these past days. Damien collected his clothes, got dressed, and threw another disarming smile in my direction.

"Take a shower. I'll wait for you outside."

And then he plodded out of the room, leaving me standing alone like a fool, wondering what on earth that had been about.

~o0o~

Minutes later, when I had showered and dressed, I found Damien on the couch, sipping a cup of coffee, the morning paper spread out on the table before him. He looked up when I came out and gestured to the spot next to him. I ignored him pointedly, trying to act casual, as though nothing remotely significant had been discussed inside the bedroom just moments earlier.

That did not dampen his mood.

"Your things are on the table," he said. He looked so maddeningly happy that I felt a bizarre urge to clobber him with something, just to wipe that smirk off his face.

"You fixed my things?"

"You're welcome."

"Oh good," I said sarcastically. "I do need another assistant."

"Or a lifetime partner," he shot back.

I was skidding on thin ice. I retreated, although I hated doing that, but a change in topic was severely needed. "Where exactly did you get that?"

I pointed at the cup in his hand. I don't remember keeping a stash of coffee, in whatever form, anywhere inside my apartment.

Damien winked at me. The coffee's aroma was enticing; his smile, even more so. "Your neighbor was very accommodating. Very curious, too. She told me bluntly that I was the first guy that you took home with you."

I felt a prickle of annoyance at the look of satisfaction he was wearing. "Oh? She didn't tell you about the girls?"

"There were none," he answered smugly. "I asked that, too."

"You," I growled, eyes narrowed, "are getting out of hand."

He laughed. "I'm sorry. I'm annoying you, aren't I? I'm just happy. You have no idea how much I've waited for—"

"Wait," I interrupted him, alarmed at the notion that he was hoping for something more, something that I would not be able to give. "Forever" sounded amazing and all, but as I discovered three years ago, it was not real. Like fairy dust and flying carpets, love everlasting was the stuff of fairy tales, not of real life. In real life, "forever" lasts for oh…say, three years. At least it did for me. "I didn't agree to anything."

"Not _yet_."

"Damien…" I whined, but I could not think of anything to back up my complaint. I thought hard of something – anything – but I was feeling pretty sluggish at the moment, especially since Damien was looking at me with such _hope _in his eyes. I felt a twinge of discomfort, knowing how painful it was to look forward to something that was never going to be. I was not that terrible of a person to inflict upon him what I had to go through with Yuuri.

"Damien," I tried again. "I—"

"I'm not asking for much, Wolfram," he cut me short, noting the change in my tone. "I was only asking you to _try."_

"To what?"

"Try. Being with me is worth a shot. _I_ am worth a try."

I cursed internally. Now what was I supposed to say to _that_? How could you ever let a guy down when he was being this _nice_?

Damien stood up, leaving his cup on the table. "Say yes."

_If it were only that easy_, I thought. I cleared my throat. "Look—"

"I am _not_ taking no for an answer," he said stubbornly. Then his eyes softened. "Just…say that you'll try."

My heart pounded. I could not understand this feeling. Pity? A sense of amity because I could relate to what he was going through? Unrequited love _was_ my territory after all. But…why do I feel so…so…warm all over? I found myself nodding, although I could not remember making a conscious decision to accept Damien's proposal at_ all_.

His face brightened. "You will?"

"I guess so," I said, but some part of me was already starting to regret my answer.

"Thank you," Damien said, pulling me into his arms. I offered no resistance, thinking that maybe it would not be too bad to be in a relationship again. Maybe he was right. Maybe this was worth a shot. Maybe he _was_ worth a try. And how could I think otherwise, when he was holding me this way, as though he did not want to let me go? When he was stroking my hair with such affection? When he was looking at me with such tenderness?

I felt both guilty and ashamed. What was I doing, playing with somebody else's feelings?

"You know," Damien whispered, as though he knew what I was thinking, "someday, maybe you'll learn to love me too."

I think he meant that as a joke, but it only made me more aware how _wrong_ everything was. I could not answer. I could not even look him in the eye. Instead, I buried my face in his chest and allowed him to hold me for as long as he wanted.

~o0o~

**Chapter 2: Of Fights and Flights**

~o0o~

**Wolfram von Bielefeld**

I had that dream again and again in the nights that followed. The car. The breaking glass. The pool of blood in the pavement. The dark-haired boy who stared at me with horror-stricken eyes…

Each time, I woke up to find another pair of eyes staring at me, but unlike the ones in my dreams, they do not flash with fear. Rather, they gleam with anxiety, understanding, and – although I am not entirely sure of it – jealousy.

Damien. Now that he was staying over more often than necessary, I always find Damien's eyes on me whenever I wake up from these visions – these images that were rapidly becoming my nightly ordeal.

Inexplicably, I do not resent having Damien see me this way, even if these were perhaps my most vulnerable moments. In fact, his constant presence was strangely comforting rather than aggravating. His arms around me made me feel safe rather than entrapped. Making love with him was as gratifying as ever, and surprisingly, talking to him was not as dreary as I had previously envisioned. It turned out that we had quite a lot of things in common.

No. I no longer detest the idea of being Damien's…what was the right word here? Boyfriend? Lover? Fiancé? I shrugged the thought off, finding that I did not really want to care what my role was in Damien's life. I do not find the idea of being with him as undesirable as I did before, but there was still that occasional feeling of regret looming over me. Sometimes, I feel like knocking my head against the wall for committing myself to another potentially disastrous relationship. Sometimes, I curse myself for doing the very thing that I had always steered clear from after breaking up with Yuuri – getting involved. With Damien, I was more than involved. I was _tangled_. Ensnared. How could I have allowed this to happen?

But it was too late to take anything back. The only consolation I had was that I was not the one who cared more. When things fall apart – which I am pretty sure they would – I would not be the one who would get hurt_._

"Wolfram?"

I gave a start. It was early morning, and I had just risen from another version of my nightmare – the one where Yuuri closed his eyes and drifted away forever – only to find Damien staring at me with unwavering intensity. There was something in his eyes that made me instantly alert that something was off. Had I done or said something offensive? The look he was giving me said as much.

I straightened up. "W-what time is it?"

"You were dreaming," he said. I thought I heard a hint of disapproval in his voice. And hurt.

I wanted to ask if I had said something wrong while within the throes of my dream, but I decided that it was none of his business. If he did not like seeing me thrashing about the bed while occasionally shouting my ex-boyfriend's name, then he could just as well stay in his own house, couldn't he? Who invited him over anyway?

I was feeling pretty peevish for some reason. I think it was because I still could not figure out why I was having all these dreams about the past. Why now? Why here? Why wouldn't they stop? I remember my brother, Gwendal, saying something about dreams being manifestations of our subconscious, of the things, events, and people that we keep out of sight. Out of mind. I thought back to the visions I keep having about the car accident and tried to process what those could possibly mean. Longing for a person who clearly did not want me as much as I did him? Shame for accidentally hurting the person that I professed to be in love with? Guilt because…

I stopped my thoughts right there. No. I did not want to think about _that._

Damien stood up when he saw that I was not about to give a narrative, an apology, or an explanation. He said neutrally, "I'm making breakfast. You should get up and eat."

Ah, breakfast. How long was it since I actually had one made right here? Cooking was an unusual occurrence in my apartment, but that was when I still lived alone. Now that Damien took up the habit of sleeping over frequently, there were now hot meals on the table, stacks of food supplies in the pantry, and sorted mails in the table each morning.

_Damien_, I thought with mixed emotions. Why couldn't he just be like everybody else? Why couldn't he just be interested in the sex and be done with it? On one hand, I feel flattered that he seemed to care about me so much. On the other, his devotion could be so uncomfortable at times, particularly because I felt obliged to return the favor in one way or another. I felt that I owed him somehow, and I did not like being indebted to people over anything, especially with things that money could not buy. Things like love.

"Are you coming, or would you like a few more minutes to dream about _him_?" Damien's tone was unusually acerbic. He seemed annoyed.

I felt guilty, knowing that I really _must _have done something insulting. Why else would Damien – who was usually so pleasant and considerate – act like this? But another emotion overshadowed my desire to apologize. Anger. Not at him but at myself. I knew I could not handle being in this type of relationship. Why did I even push it?

"Wolfram?" Damien seemed to come to his senses. "I'm sorry. I—"

His apology made me angrier. How could I even consider dumping him when he was being so damn _nice_?

"It's fine!" I retorted. Then I stood up, throwing the covers away with unnecessary force. Without a single word, I strode to the bathroom, closed the door with a bang, and locked myself in. From beyond the door, I could hear Damien's footsteps. And then his voice came.

"Wolfram? I really am sorry. I was out of line."

"Go away," I muttered.

I undressed and collapsed on the tub. I turned the taps on, and as I watched the water lap softly at my feet, I briefly contemplated holding myself under and just be done with everything. The nightmares could not possibly follow me into the afterlife, could they?

The idea seemed reasonable for a second, and then I realized just how pathetic it was. Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic. But then, when it came to things connected to Yuuri, I had always been nothing less than pathetic.

I sighed and sank down into the welcoming water, not stopping until I was completely submerged. I held my breath for a long moment, for as long as my body could endure the lack of oxygen. Then gasping, I surfaced, water sputtering out of my mouth.

"You know, if you're trying to drown yourself, the tub is a _very_ ineffective venue."

My head snapped up in surprise. Damien was looming over me, eyebrows knitted together.

"I locked the door," I groaned.

"I know where you keep the keys."

Of course, I thought wryly. From the way he moved around, you would have guessed that he was the one who owned the apartment, and I was the visitor. The intruder. I smiled at the thought of barging into _his _house and acting as though I owned it. But if I did not know any better, Damien would have probably enjoyed the experience rather than be discomfited about it. And also, I did not even know where he lived.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

I shook my head. "I should have locked you out of the apartment."

"I have duplicate keys of the front door."

"I could change the locks."

"I could always climb a window."

I rolled my eyes at him. "We're at the ninth floor."

"There are ways," he said dismissively. "There's always a way."

"You…" I was about to tell him off, but I found that I could not. Instead, my mouth quirked with amusement. "You just don't know when to give up, do you?"

"I was told that it's a desirable attribute."

"When has pigheadedness become an attribute?" I asked, and it was seconds before I realized that I was teasing him. And Damien was responding in kind. Have we made up? I was not even conscious of it.

Damien was grinning. "Some people would call it persistence."

I laughed and he joined in, and just like that, everything seemed to be fine again. I marveled at how he could be so undemanding, so forgiving, so easy to please. So…uncomplicated. Out of nowhere, an unexpected warmth rushed through my body, and I realized that this guy was actually starting to grow on me. Damien regarded me then with a sort of relief that I was no longer mad at him. Then he leaned down to kiss me, and automatically, I inclined my face to grant him better access. There was a soft splash, and the water in the tub flowed down over the sides. A weight descended upon me, and when I opened my eyes next, all I could see were Damien's eyes, and all I could think about was how warm they were, and how pleased I was that he was looking at me – only me. All I could think about was how much I wanted him.

"You're still dressed," I observed.

"That could be easily arranged," Damien answered with another lopsided grin, unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it to the floor. He leaned down to press his lips against mine, but before our faces could meet, his head jerked abruptly to the side. There was a distracted look on his face, then without warning, he leapt out of the tub.

"What's wrong?" I called after him as he scampered out of the bathroom.

"My bacons are burning!" he shouted back, and true enough, I could smell something off, something…well, _burning_. It must have been beyond saving, and obviously worse than anticipated, because a few seconds later, there was a noise that sounded ominously like an explosion. I could hear Damien cursing, which was a first. Then there was another loud sound that seemed like water gushing forcefully out of somewhere.

I groaned. Great. Just great. What a way to start the day. Reluctantly, I pulled myself out of the water and got dressed. I had a feeling Damien had just demolished my kitchen.

I entered the kitchen a moment later to find my suspicions confirmed. Damien was soaking wet from head to toe as he wrestled with what appeared to be a water spout by the sink, where the faucet used to be. There was a gigantic soot-blackened spot near the stove-top, where the wall should be visible. I stared at Damien for a second or two, not knowing whether to laugh or panic, before I recovered enough sense to sprint towards the main taps and turn them off.

Fortunately, it did the trick.

"What on earth did you do?" I demanded as soon as the water subsided.

For once, Damien seemed at a loss for words. "I—I…didn't…"

"You just ruined my kitchen."

"Yeah," Damien said, looking stunned.

"You'll have to pay for this," I warned.

"I know."

"I was just kidding."

Damien shook his head. "No, I need to pay for this. I nearly burned your apartment."

"It's not really a problem…" I stopped and looked at him, feeling guilty that I hadn't asked earlier. "Uh, are you okay?"

"I guess," he said, looking down at himself. Then he nodded towards the stove. "I couldn't say the same for your breakfast."

"Screw the breakfast."

Damien did not even smile. "Wolfram, I'll fix everything. I know someone. I can get him to come over this afternoon. I'm really sorry. I'll have everything done by the end of the day."

Had he been anything but contrite, I would have taken this opportunity to tease him – or at the worst, get exceedingly angry and use the situation as an excuse to dump him. But since he looked so anxious while waiting for my reaction, I said instead, "I told you – screw it. Don't worry about anything."

"But—"

"I said, it's okay."

"Yes, but—"

I sighed and moved towards him, and then…well…I do not know why I did what I did next. It just felt like the most natural thing to do at that instant. Before Damien could start apologizing again, I leaned forward and captured his mouth in a slow, languid kiss. It was not something borne out of physical desire, but more of genuine affection. Not of a need to satisfy some sexual hunger, but of a yearning to comfort. Not to tell him that I wanted him in my bed, but to tell him that everything was really, _truly,_ alright.

I surprised myself with that gesture, but I stunned myself with the feeling that went with it. My pulse raced wildly, and blood rushed to my face. I felt like I was a teenager, and this was my very first kiss.

But I think I must have surprised Damien even more. After all, this was the first time that I actually initiated any sort of physical contact with him. And to do it like this…that must require some sort of explanation.

"Wolfram?" Damien was looking at me with a mystified, but otherwise hopeful, expression.

I was right. He was waiting for an explanation. Mercifully, I was saved the trouble of having to pluck one out of thin air with the doorbell chiming pleasantly in my ears. I gave a nervous chuckle and moved to step away from him, but he held me by the waist and would not let go.

"Ignore it," he whispered.

"That must be the manager," I protested. "He must be wondering what happened to the water supply."

I could see he was still reluctant to release me, so I gently peeled his arms from me. "I'll be back."

I made my way to the main entrance, but my mind was reeling furiously from what I just did. That kiss…and that feeling…

What _was_ that?

I thought I had all the time in the world to dissect my feelings, but when I opened the door, everything – the nightmares, Damien, the kiss in the drenched kitchen – everything melted into the air.

Because the man in my doorstep was not the apartment manager.

It was my brother.

_Conrad_.

~o0o~

**Conrad Weller**

I came to Germany with a mission.

It was not a desirable one by any means, but it was – in my point of view – necessary. A lot of people do not agree with what I was about to do, particularly with the news that I was about to deliver, but I felt that I owe it to my little brother to tell him what was going on. I told myself that if our situations were reversed, I am fairly sure that I would want somebody to tell me the truth. Besides, I know Wolfram. He would never forgive me if I kept something as important as this from him.

I had to tell him.

But now that I am standing right at his doorstep, the significance of my news seemed to diminish at the sight that revealed itself. Wolfram was soaked to the skin, and from what little I could see of the room beyond, it seemed that everything was wet as well. The word 'danger' flashed before my eyes, and my first instinct was to grab my brother out of the room and take him somewhere safe. But then I remembered that he was not six anymore. He was an adult, albeit still a bit too childish in my opinion, but old enough to _not_ appreciate being carried out of anywhere. I reined my panicking self in and assumed a concerned expression.

"Wolfram!" I exclaimed, foregoing small talk. "What happened?"

Wolfram stared at me like he could not believe that I was actually there. His surprise _was_ valid. We had lost touch for nearly a year, and there were no phone calls, no letters, no contact whatsoever. If I were in his shoes, I would be surprised as well. The difference, though, was that I would be _pleasantly _surprised. Wolfram, on the other hand, had a guilty look about him. I recognized that face. He looked like that time when he was five, when I caught him hiding the remnants of a vase he had obviously broken under the living room carpet.

_'He's hiding something,' _I thought, and I was immediately on alert. "Wolfram?"

Wolfram seemed to snap out of his trance. "Conrad! W-what are you doing here?"

"Forget that," I replied. "What happened to you?"

"Um…it's just a little fire…"

"A fire?" I frowned, stepping into the room before he could stop me. Somehow, I had the feeling that he was not planning to invite me in. Which was _very _odd. "What fire?"

Wolfram hurried beside me. "It's nothing really. It's just the stove, it's—"

"Stove?" I echoed. "Wolf…were you actually _cooking?_" An image of my pampered little brother over a stove-top was utterly preposterous. It made me laugh.

Wolfram looked offended, and as usual, he compensated by scowling and saying rudely, "I wasn't. Have you come all the way here to insult me?"

I was reminded of the news I was supposed to deliver, and I quickly sobered down. Thankfully, Wolfram still seemed preoccupied with something else, that he did not notice my mood.

"Conrad? Look, this is really a bad time. Can't you visit me some other day?" He was yanking me back towards the door. "Or I could just meet you. Give me your address and I'll come see you instead."

I stopped to study his face. He was blushing, and something inside my head clicked. I wondered why it took me so long to decipher my brother's behavior. I smiled in understanding. "Oh, you have company?"

Wolfram froze, then turned beet-red. He stammered, "I-it's not…it's just…he's…" When he failed to complete the sentence, he snapped at me, "It's none of your business!"

But I had heard enough. _He_. A guy. I could not decide whether this was a good thing. I had heard from some of the people I know at Waltorana's company that Wolfram was often seen with a string of guys. A different one each time. Gwendal was aware of this too, and it did not amuse either of us to know that our youngest brother had actually started emulating our mother's lifestyle. I had an idea why Wolfram had resorted to such promiscuity, but then again, that affair with Yuuri had happened _ages_ ago. I was wary of the thought that he might still be fixated on him. It would make the message I was about to convey all the more unbearable for him, and hurting him was the last thing in the world I wanted to do.

For a moment, I thought of letting the matter drop and just return at a more appropriate time. But I decided against it, knowing that this was as good a time as any to give him the news. It would allow him more time to think and decide what to do with it. But before that…

"Aren't you going to introduce me?" I teased. I knew I was probably pushing my luck, but I must admit that I was curious. Besides, it was fun to see Wolfram _this_ disconcerted once in a while.

"Conrad!" Wolfram whined, sounding like his five-year-old self.

Gently, I placed my hand upon his shoulder. "I'm curious," I said honestly. Then I added in a conspiratorial whisper, "I won't tell Mother. Or Gwendal."

Wolfram actually relaxed a bit. "He isn't really…I mean…we're—"

Whatever he was supposed to say was interrupted by the appearance of the visitor in question. He came from the kitchen area, holding a burnt metal piece that looked like the remnants of a frying pan. He was naked from the chest up, and like my brother, he was sopping wet from head to toe. He looked taken aback when he saw me, and then his eyes narrowed considerably at the sight of my arm on Wolfram's shoulder. For a second, we regarded each other distrustfully. Then the light of recognition appeared in his eyes and his facial muscles loosened up. Now he looked self-conscious. I stared at him for a moment longer. He seemed to recognize me, and I wondered why he looked so familiar as well.

Wolfram said stiffly, "Damien, this is Conrad, my brother. Conrad, this is Damien. He's…er…he's—"

"—just leaving," the guy called Damien immediately supplied, smiling in what he obviously thought was a winning manner. He deposited the charred pan near the table and said, "I'll…be back later."

He strode past us hurriedly, throwing Wolfram a secretive smile. Wolfram flushed. I averted my gaze to a speck of dirt on the floor and pretended not to notice, but from the corner of my eyes, I followed the departing guy's movements. I could not help but notice that he made a hasty detour towards the bedroom, emerging fully clothed, before finally making his exit. When we were both alone, Wolfram groaned in what I could make out as mortification.

"Don't you dare tell Mother," he warned, sinking down to the damp couch. "Or Gwendal."

"I promise," I replied solemnly. Then I remarked, "He seems familiar. Have I met him before?"

"You couldn't have."

I shrugged. Then I realized partly why Wolfram's visitor seemed to strike a certain chord within me, and why it felt like I had seen him before. Although Damien had light sandy hair and hazel eyes, there was something in the way he smiled that reminded me of…of Yuuri Shibuya. I considered my brother for a moment, wondering whether he had intentionally chosen that guy because of this similarity, but I did not dare verbalize my thoughts.

I said instead, "So…you were wondering why I'm here."

Wolfram did not seem interested anymore, but he humored me just the same. "Well, yes. Do you have business with Uncle Waltorana?"

"Actually, Waltorana doesn't know I'm here. Neither does Gwendal. If they knew that I was planning to visit you, they would have stopped me at all costs."

"Really?" There was now a flicker of curiosity in Wolfram's eyes. "Why? What's going on?"

"Didn't anyone tell you where I just came from?"

Wolfram shook his head. "I was guessing that you went to Siberia or something. That's about the only place in the world you haven't been to."

His attempt at a joke weakened my resolve for a mere second, but then I steeled myself to say the next words, "Actually…I was in Saitama."

That should explain everything. Judging from the look of comprehension on Wolfram's face, I knew that he already had a fair idea as to what I was trying to say. He knew that whatever it was had something to do with Yuuri.

"You've talked to Yuuri," he deduced. His tone was flat.

"He's no longer mad at you, Wolfram," I said. "He's been trying to get in touch with you these past months. I think he wants to see you. To talk to you."

"I don't understand."

"I think it would be good for you to…to give him a chance to talk. I think it would be good for him too."

Wolfram did not look convinced. "So he sent you all the way here to tell me that? Why now?"

I hesitated. Then I pulled out an envelope from the inner pocket of my coat. "Actually, he also wanted me to give this to you," I said carefully. "He wanted you to…to come. If you want to."

Wolfram took the envelope. I saw that he was struggling to come to terms with what I had just told him, considering that this was also the first tangible thing that he had received from Yuuri after all these years. I thought that I should warn him, but each time I opened my mouth to say something, no words came out. Then a moment later, I did not need to. Wolfram had realized by himself what he was holding in his hand and all color seemed to have bled out of his face. He looked back at me with a hodgepodge of emotions. I could see he was trying to fight down his dismay, but he was having no success with it.

"This is…" Wolfram rasped out, "…this is…an invitation…" I nodded. Wolfram seemed to struggle with this information for a moment longer. Then he whispered softly, as though he was speaking to himself, "Yuuri's getting married?"

I nodded again to indicate that he was right. Wolfram did not seem to notice me. He was looking past me, as though he was staring at figures that only he could see.

Then in a strangled voice, he repeated to himself, "Yuuri's getting married."

I stared at him, at the lost expression on his face, and I wondered whether I had done the right thing.

~o0o~

**Wolfram von Bielefeld**

The envelope was a garish shade of pink, with lilies embossed all across the front. There were two doves imprinted at the center, tied together by a long, frilly ribbon. Within the loops that the ribbons made, two names were embossed in glittering gold letters. _Yuuri. Reiko. _On the lower right hand portion, my name was printed in a heavy handwriting that I immediately recognized as Yuuri's. I had to blink a few times to assure myself that everything was real.

I pried the flap open with my hands, fingers shaking slightly, and pulled the content out. It did not take me long to confirm what I was holding, and my entire body seemed to grow colder.

It was an invitation.

An invitation to Yuuri's…_wedding_.

"Yuuri's getting married?" I asked, addressing no one in particular. Standing opposite me, Conrad nodded in confirmation, but somehow I still could not drink it in. It was as if I had been wrenched back in time, back to that point when I had proposed to Yuuri and he had turned me down without even batting an eyelash. I could picture us in the hotel room where I had set up what I had imagined as a romantic rendezvous. The meticulously-prepared dinner. All that wine. The room swathed in candlelight. I had even hired a quartet just for the occasion. It was all so sappy now that I looked back at it, and the overly dramatic quality of it all might have contributed to Yuuri freaking out. But it had been for Yuuri. And that was enough reason for me to let go of all my inhibitions and express my feelings for him the best that I knew how.

I was not very good with words, and so I had hoped that my actions would speak for themselves. Either Yuuri was too dense to realize what I was hinting at, or he knew exactly what I wanted but did not want to discuss it. I feared that it might have been the latter. I had no choice but to use words, but when I finally broached the topic of settling down with him, he just gaped at me with an expression appropriate to someone who had just been bashed in the head. Then he just kept on drinking himself senseless, and it was all I could do not to hit him in the face for real. I tried raising the topic for a second time, and that moment around, Yuuri had categorically refused.

"No." That was all he said. I asked for an explanation, to which he only replied, "I can't."

Enough said. I must have drunk myself into a stupor, but still, at the end of the night, I had the bad sense to drive the two of us home. We kept up an argument inside the car, until everything eventually culminated into that…that accident.

_'Accident_,' I thought darkly, _'Yeah, right.'_

"Wolfram?"

My brother called out my name as though he was addressing a wounded animal in a corner, cajoling it to come forth into the open. I closed my eyes for a second, because I could not be sure if I could stop myself from flinging a flower vase right into his overly concerned face.

"Yuuri's getting married," I whispered to myself, driving the reality home.

I did not know what to think. And then suddenly, I was so angry, I could not help but crumple the invitation into a ball. What was this all of a sudden? A joke? Why would _Yuuri_ invite _me _to his _wedding_? Why would I want to see him march down the aisle to tie the knot with somebody else, when three years ago, he had refused pointblank to marry _me_?

Then the anger seeped out of my bones and all I could feel was fatigue. I felt faint – exhausted to the core – and not just in a physical sense. I could feel an old wound opening up somewhere deep within me, a wound that I thought had healed after three years. It was still there, unfortunately, and it still hurts like hell.

My mind was stuck in the moment. At the fact that Yuuri had chosen somebody else. That he had finally moved on. And worse, that he wanted to share his new life with me.

It felt so wrong. So unfair.

"Are you going?" Conrad was watching me with cautious eyes. I glanced at him. He had a resigned sort of expression on his face, as though he knew what I was going to do even before I had fully decided to act on it.

"I…" My throat felt dry. I swallowed hard. "I'll think about it. Is…is this all you came here for?"

He nodded again. "I just wanted you to know. I would like to, if it were me." Unexpectedly, he smiled – that gentle, understanding smile that only belonged to him. "If you decide to go, I was thinking that we could go together."

I felt the edges of my lips lifting up at his offer. My loyal, dependable, adoring brother. With my father always away for his business and my mother busy with her affairs, I was practically raised by my brothers. By Conrad, mostly. Up until I was shipped to a boarding school when I turned eleven, Conrad was the only person in the world I depended on, one of the few people I trusted wholeheartedly. I remembered being so jealous when I spent a vacation in Japan and found him completely enamored with another kid – young, naïve Yuuri. I could not understand why Conrad liked him so much. I just slowly realized how special he was over the next few years, and by then, I was a goner. In retrospect, falling for Yuuri had been inevitable.

"I'm not a child anymore, Conrad," I said. "You don't have to hold my hand every time I'm upset."

"I know," he said softly. "But I couldn't help worrying."

"You don't need to," I told him, and I meant it.

Still, it was tough to convince Conrad to leave me alone afterwards. It was only the promise that I would let him know what I would do with the invitation that finally got him to leave. Left to my own thoughts a little while later, I took a few minutes to collect myself. Then on an impulse, I started doing what I had never done in my entire life – clean my apartment. I managed to locate a mop that I did not know I even owned and started swiping the floor with it. I just needed to do something that would keep my hands busy and allow my mind to wander.

What should I do with the invitation? Turn it down? That could mean that I do not care about the wedding at all, which was good for my image. Or it could mean the opposite – that I still cared too much that I could not bear to see Yuuri exchange wedding vows with somebody else. _That_ was probably closer to the truth.

I made a face, and I began attacking the floor with unwarranted vigor. If I accepted the invitation, what would that say about me? That I was still hoping to get Yuuri to stop this nonsense? Or that I had accepted that he had moved on, and my presence there would be an indication that I had done so as well? I was torn between what I wanted to do and what was the right thing to do. In this scenario, they were – most unfortunately – not the same things.

I ended up spending the entire afternoon locked up in my apartment, doing several menial tasks that I could have easily ordered the clean-up crew to do. I was only interrupted twice. The first time was when the manager peered in to ascertain that everything was well, and that I was really fine. He did not look too convinced to say the least, perhaps because the sight of me cleaning the floor was too much for him to bear. Thankfully, he did not linger, and he left, muttering something about a meeting with the insurance company.

The second interruption occurred at nearly three o'clock, when my secretary called to inform me that the Americans had already left. It was only then that I remembered what I had initially set out to do that morning, but strangely enough, I did not care any longer that I missed the opportunity to settle a business deal. Although – I glanced at the report Damien had given me – I felt a twinge of guilt for letting Damien's efforts come to waste…

"I didn't know you could handle a mop," an amused voice rang out of the blue, and I jumped in surprise. Damien, looking fresh and alert in a change of clothes, had snuck in behind me. I was about to ask him how he got in, but then I remembered what he had said earlier. He must be telling the truth about the duplicate key.

"Damien…you came back."

He grinned. "I came to get you. I figured this place would be inhabitable for a while, so since I was the cause of all this mess, I guess I should offer you a place to stay. I wanted to come back earlier, but I wasn't sure if you were alone." He glanced over his shoulder, as though looking for someone. "Is…your brother really gone?"

"Y-yes…" My throat felt very dry again. The sight of Damien and the thought of Yuuri did not jive well together for some reason.

Damien relaxed visibly. Then he sauntered over to my side and casually slid his arms around my waist, his chin digging into my shoulder, his lips pressing against my neck. "So, where were we before he came in?"

His breath was hot against my skin, but his nearness did nothing but fuel my distress at the fact that I was longing for a different pair of arms. Different lips. A different person who was living halfway around the world, probably trying on a tuxedo right now, preparing for his wedding. I disentangled myself and avoided Damien's eyes. He caught on to my mood easily enough.

"Is there something wrong?" he asked, all playfulness gone from his features. "Bad news from your brother?"

_Bad news. _I felt that those words defined the news of Yuuri's wedding accurately enough, but I knew I did not have the right to qualify it as such. I had lost that right that fateful night, three years ago. By all accounts, I should not be able to feel anything right now. Not hurt or betrayal or anger or yearning or jealousy. The problem was, I was feeling every single thing so acutely that I was beginning to feel so pathetic once more.

"Wolfram? What's wrong?"

I wanted to lie, but I knew that I would be hopeless at it. Especially with Damien. He had always been able to tell what I was thinking, or if I was keeping something from him. He never pried, but he had a way of getting to the truth on his own. He was pretty resourceful with these types of things.

"Well," I answered tentatively, "there _is_ news. You…you remember Yuuri?"

Damien's eyebrows rose with interest. "How could I forget?"

I ignored the sarcasm in his voice and went on, "Conrad delivered an…an invitation from him. He said that…that Yuuri wanted me to come."

I was being vague because I could not say the words out loud in front of him. It was odd enough to be talking about Yuuri with Damien of all people. But Damien proved to be far more perceptive than I had given him credit for. He asked, "He's getting married?"

I nodded numbly. Hearing those words from him somehow made everything much more _real._

Damien's face changed, ever so subtly. Then he asked quietly, "Are you going?"

"I haven't decided yet."

Damien studied my face. "You're going. I could tell."

His apparent omniscience rubbed me the wrong way. I snapped, "I said I haven't decided."

"You don't need to lie to me—"

"I'm not lying!"

"Wolfram—"

"I. Am. _Not_. Lying!" I snarled.

Damien regarded me with a hollow laugh. "You wouldn't be able to help yourself, Wolfram."

"What is _that _supposed to mean?"

"Oh come on. Do you honestly want me to spell it out for you?"

"Yes," I hissed. "Please do."

Damien shook his head in frustration. "Because it's him! It's Yuuri Shibuya! You've always been drawn to him. I'm surprised you haven't booked your ticket to Saitama yet."

I was so angry at his superior tone that it took me a few seconds to process what he had just said.

_'It's Yuuri Shibuya!_ _You've always been drawn to him. I'm surprised you haven't booked your ticket to Saitama yet.'_

I blinked as the full weight of his words hit me. How did he even know Yuuri's full name? Or that he lived in Saitama? Damien must have realized that he had said more than he intended. He looked away. I could do nothing but stare at him, my mind screaming with the realization that Damien knew Yuuri! But how was that possible? Either he had met him personally or he had researched all that he could about him. None of these possibilities made any sense to me. I mean, there was no opportunity for him to have met Yuuri. Yuuri never travelled out of the country. And Damien couldn't possibly be _that_ obsessed to research all of my past lovers, could he? Or couldn't he? My eyes narrowed with suspicion.

It was unlikely that Damien would confess everything he knew outright, but I went for it anyway. "You…you know who Yuuri is, don't you?"

He hesitated, his eyes flitting everywhere but my face. That was enough affirmation for me.

I demanded, "How?"

"What does it matter?"

"Answer the question!"

Damien looked grim. "I worked for your uncle on an overseas assignment once, remember?"

Something nagged at the back of my mind, and a detail claimed my undivided attention. What did Damien say before?

_'It was more than a year…I've known you for more than a year…I'll let you remember the rest…'_

I felt sick with realization. "That assignment…don't tell me you were in…?"

Damien seemed to be gritting his teeth. "I was in Japan, yes."

"In Saitama?" I asked. What could possibly be the company's business in that particular area? Then it hit me. "_I_ was your assignment? You were there to check on _me_?"

Unwillingly, as though he was merely forcing his body to move, Damien nodded.

I clenched my fists. "And Yuuri too?"

Damien avoided my eyes. "Yes. To a certain extent."

"But you asked me about him. You were pretending not to know, but you…you knew all along…"

"I know. It was stupid, but I just wanted you to tell me those things yourself."

"But why did you…?" I started to ask, but then I realized the obvious and I answered my own question, "Uncle Waltorana."

"I'm sorry, Wolfram," Damien said. "It _was_ part of my job, but I—"

That was the wrong thing to say. I flared up. "You're saying that you intruded into my personal life just because it was your _job—_!"

"It wasn't like I had any choice in the matter!" Damien snapped, and it was so unusual to see him like this that I did not get to reply right away. "You ran away from home, remember? Didn't you even _think _for a single moment that your uncle wouldn't send _anyone_ to follow you around? Didn't you even _imagine _that he wouldn't try to find out how you were living your life in Japan?" He looked at me beseechingly, willing me to understand. "I wasn't the only one, Wolfram. There were others who kept track of you before I eventually took over."

I did not know which was worst – the idea that my so-called years of freedom in Japan, away from the prying eyes of my father's family, were just mere illusions, or the fact that Damien had conspired with them to hunt me down. I had not yet fully decided what I feel for Damien, if indeed, I feel anything at all. But at the least, with his deception and concealment, I felt betrayed.

"Oh?" I asked in cold fury. "So, right now, are you still here to keep an eye on me, is that it? Are you also being paid to date me and screw me on the side?"

"Do you think that's something I'd actually do?" Damien demanded furiously. "If you must know, I only took the job because—"

I did not want to listen anymore. I felt that anything he'd say would make matters worse. "Stop it. Just go."

"Wolfram—"

"STOP IT!" I roared at the top of my voice.

Damien pursed his lips. He stared at me with a stubborn gleam in his eyes, before stating bluntly, "You're really going to do it, aren't you? You're going back. To him."

I did not refute it, but I did not feel the need to explain my thought process to him or continue talking to him any longer. I had heard more than I needed to hear. I had said more than I wanted to say. I turned my back on him.

Damien said, so quietly that I almost missed it, "Don't go."

I shook my head, not daring to turn around and face his wrath or disappointment, or both. What seemed like an eternity later, I heard Damien's departing footsteps and the front door slamming shut.

The sound ignited something in me – a need to do something, anything, to stop myself from going after Damien. Before I knew what I was doing, I was running towards the bedroom. I was abruptly seized with a frantic need to get away. Away from my apartment. Away from this town. Away from this country. I thought of several possible destinations, but in the end, I was drawn more and more to the place indicated in that sickeningly pink piece of paper. Damien was probably right. I wanted to be there so badly, although _why_ I wanted to was still a mystery to me. It was enough motivation, though, to start packing.

I made my way to the bedroom, called the airlines, and started making reservations for the earliest flight to Japan. I did not stop to think about what I was going to do. Frankly, I did not know what the hell I was doing or why I was going to do it. I could not explain why I was returning to a country I had sworn never to visit again. I could not understand why I was going back to watch the person that I – in some foolish and pathetic way – still love, get married to somebody else.

I do not understand anything. I just have this feeling of…of _certainty_…that I have to do it. I _have_ to be there. I could not explain it, and I did not have the energy to analyze my feelings. I just wanted to be there, to be with him, to see Yuuri again…and as I realized that, I swore softly to myself for being so stupid.

_Damn you, Yuuri._

~o0o~

**_Notes:_**

_Okay, this is the first time I've written anything in first person, so I'm still trying to get used to it. Now I understand what people say by giving characters their own "voice." Also, since this is AU, I had to convert the events in the canon universe to something that could happen in an alternate universe. Of course THE slap had to figure in somewhere, right? :)_

_Damien and Reiko are OCs from the main story I'm working on right now. Since the story called for people like them, I figured that it would be more convenient to use them rather than create two more OCs for just a short story._

_'Someone Like You' started off as something else entirely, with the wedding being more of a side story rather than the main plot. (Honestly, I don't know why things don't end up exactly how I wanted them to be.) But somewhere along the way, I got tangled with the whole wedding events that I ended up focusing on them more than I needed to. Anyway, I hope everyone enjoys reading this just the same. _

_Thanks for reading!_


	4. Someone Like You (Part 2 of 4)

**Anthology – Alternate Universe**

**Genre: **Romance, AU

**Pairings: **YuurixWolfram, YuurixOC, WolframxOC

**Warnings: **Slash. Sexual innuendos and some improbable scenarios of the type that might possibly happen in a novel or a manga, but not very likely in real life.

**Summary: **Yuuri's getting married. And Wolfram's invited.

~o0o~

**SOMEONE LIKE YOU**

**(Part 2 of 4)**

~o0o~

**Chapter 3: Of Arrivals and Reunions**

~o0o~

**Yuuri Shibuya**

"He's _here_?"

I clutched the receiver tightly and asked the receptionist to kindly verify the name of the guest who was waiting in the lobby. We were in the hotel, in the middle of a dinner party thrown by Reiko's parents, when I received a call from the concierge saying that there was someone downstairs who was asking for me. At the sound of that someone's name, my heart rate rose like crazy, like I had just run a marathon in under twenty seconds.

"Certainly sir," said the receptionist, and after a muffled conversation with somebody else on the other end, the man's voice returned and said, "It really is Wolfram von Bielefeld, Shibuya-san. He says he lost his invitation, but he claims to know you. Shall I send him up?"

I didn't know what to feel. For days now – and even way before that, if I were to be honest with myself – I'd been trying to prepare myself for this encounter. I'd been asking myself what I'd do once I see Wolfram again. I'd concocted several scenarios about what he'd say or do once _he_ sees _me_ again. I'd milked my imagination dry for the things I'd say in return…the things I'd do…

I didn't want to make any mistakes.

But now that the prospect of seeing Wolfram again was more real than ever, I could feel all the words I'd rehearsed melting into the air. I could almost _hear_ my brain shriveling into nothing inside my skull. I'd never been able to rely on that part of my body with things like these. Stupid, useless thing.

"Shall I send him up?" repeated the receptionist, and I began nodding mutely before I realized that the man couldn't see me.

"Y-yes," I said, flustered. "Please send him up." I ended the call before I realized what I'd just done. Shori, Murata, my parents, Reiko, Reiko's parents and relatives, other-guests-whose-names-I-couldn't-remember…everyone was here! Did I even tell my parents that I'd invited Wolfram? Oh crap—I didn't tell Mom! She'd surely…

The thought of my mother's reaction at seeing Wolfram again sent me fumbling for the phone. Damn it! I didn't know the concierge's local number. What about the operator…?

I was losing it. At the far end of the room, I could see the elevator lights changing, as it indicated that someone was ascending from one floor to the next. Dear god, was he here already? I dropped the receiver clumsily back to its cradle, not knowing what to do next. I wanted to go and stand by the elevator, greet Wolfram with a cool, easy smile, and…and…

_'And what?!' _I screamed at myself. I couldn't hug him, could I? Or couldn't I? The elevator light changed once more and it took something as simple as that to transform my mind state from 'panicking-but-could-still-hold-it-in' to 'totally-freaking-out.' Now I didn't know what to do.

"Yuu-chan?" Reiko was beside me, although I had no idea how she had came to be there. I knew I had left her back at our table. I turned, almost mechanically towards her, taking her hand and squeezing it tightly.

"I love you," I told her, and for a frightening moment, I didn't know who I was trying to reassure by saying that all of a sudden.

She laughed and said jestingly, "If you're going to have _that_ face on our wedding day, I _might _change my mind about marrying you."

I stared at her dumbly, and then I started to laugh too. Suddenly, I remembered why I loved this girl so much and why I wanted to marry her. Reiko was so…so _easy _to be with. For a girl, she wasn't terribly emotional or demanding, not so possessive or domineering, and throughout the time that we've been together, she had, not even once, tried to tie me down. Being with her wasn't as…_constricting_…as being with Wolfram had been. With Reiko, I get the feeling that I was as free as I could ever be.

I wouldn't trade that for anything in the world.

Immediately, I relaxed, and smiling, I told my fiancée, "My friend is coming. You remember the one I told you about?" I shied away from telling her that I've had an intimate relationship with said friend. That would take a separate amount of courage, and I needed all the reserve I currently have to get through what was to take place in the next minutes. Wolfram was at least right about one thing: I was – and perhaps always would be – a wimp. I began to get nervous again, but thankfully, I still have my wits about me.

"He's here," I added. "Wolfram's here."

"He is?" Reiko asked with interest. "Well, let's go meet him, shall we?" She tugged at my hand and I followed. "I've been dying to finally get to know him."

"Get to know who?" Shori asked, meeting us halfway. Murata was right beside him.

"Wolfram," I mouthed.

"He's here?" Murata said, surprised.

"Who's here?" Dad asked, overhearing my friend's exclamation. Mom was hovering over his shoulder, and I had to suppress a groan of frustration.

"Wolfram," Shori muttered, the name inflected so delicately, as though he had just said something so undesirable.

"Wolf-chan's here?" my mother squealed.

I was starting to lose it again.

_Ding!_

From across the hall, I heard the elevator stop, its doors automatically sliding open. I realized then that I was holding my breath, and I exhaled loudly. It seemed like I wasn't the only one who was doing it. Shori and Murata – even Dad – looked blue in the face, like they were hardly even breathing at all.

A second ticked by, the elevator came to halt, and then a blond someone stepped into the room. He had arrived. He had returned.

_Wolfram._

My first reaction was similar to what I felt before, when I first laid eyes on him, nearly a lifetime ago – a mishmash of admiration, insecurity, and jealousy. Three years had done nothing to change the utter perfection of Wolfram's features. If anything else, the years had even made him more stunning than ever, so much so that even as I looked at him, I thought – as I had thought a million times when we were still together – that he was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, or would ever see, in my entire life. I noticed he had let his hair grow a little bit, with fringes of blond hair strewn haphazardly over his dark green eyes. He was in a sapphire-blue jacket, a color I'd always loved seeing him in, and I wondered – even as I forced myself _not _to think about it – if he'd worn those clothes for _me..._

I immediately felt horrible for thinking that way. Surely Wolfram was already seeing someone. Maybe he was already engaged himself. Maybe even married. Surely I wasn't the only one who had moved on…

I hitched a smile on my face and held tightly onto Reiko's hand. "W-Wolfram…" I started to say. I meant to say a greeting of some sort, like "Long time no see" or "Welcome back," but my ever-excitable mother beat me to it.

"Welcome back, Wolf-chan!" she said without even giving me time to say anything, flinging her arms around Wolfram's neck in the same breath. "We missed you!"

Wolfram seemed frozen for a second, but then his hands moved, and he returned my mother's hug in a gentle, almost sad, gesture. "It's nice to see you again, Ma—" he paused and changed track at top speed, "—Miko-san…"

I felt an overpowering and unexpected bout of misery. I was sure Wolfram had been about to say "Mama," a term of endearment that Mom had always forced Shori and me to use. We never did, of course. Wolfram was the only one who humored her – until now, that is.

"Mama," Reiko said, "Let him breathe." Then she glanced at me. "Will you introduce us?"

"O-of course," I said, although I didn't know how to do just that. My mother had finally released Wolfram, and I began again, "W-Wolfram—"

Wolfram smiled and I lost my train of thought. "Hello Yuuri," he said warmly. Then before I could react, he approached me and placed a cold hand on my cheek. The smile turned into a roguish smirk. "You haven't changed."

I couldn't understand what he meant by that, and without waiting for me to say anything more, without even turning to acknowledge the other people around us, Wolfram leaned forward and placed his arms around me. I could feel the warmth of his cheek against my neck. I could smell a faint trace of lavender from the soap he'd used on his skin. I could see the glint of something silver amidst the golden hue of his hair. My senses were full of him.

And yet at the same time, I could feel Reiko's hand on mine – gentle and warm – like the whole of her. From the corner of my eyes, I saw her smiling at me.

It was so surreal. Even as Wolfram clung to me with a shadow of the passion that he had always had inside, Reiko quietly held my hand, a serene, tangible presence beside me. _My past and my present_, I thought with unexpected sentimentality.

"Wolfram," I tried for the third time, the words flowing out more easily, "I'm so glad you came." And indeed, I was.

Wolfram pulled back then, and regarded me with an expression that I couldn't quite identify. He let go of me completely, shaking his head, just like he always did when he thought I was being childish or naïve. Then in a tone that was completely different from what he'd used earlier, he repeated softly, "You haven't changed."

~o0o~

**Wolfram von Bielefeld**

It was all part of a petty quest for revenge, but Yuuri took even that bit of satisfaction from me. The wimp had not changed one bit.

I was the vindictive kind; I knew that. I had been so infuriated at the wimp's nerve to invite me to his wedding that I had sworn I would get even once I see him again. When we did finally meet after three years, I smiled as though everything was okay between us, touched him and hugged him as if I was not feeling so out of place. I wanted him to fidget and squirm in discomfort right in front of his family and friends, right in front of his wife-to-be.

Like I said – petty revenge.

But as usual, Yuuri quickly managed to turn the tables on me – without even knowing that he did – and in the end, I could only shake my head in exasperation. I let the wimp go and smiled – a genuine smile this time, or at least as genuine as I could make it given the situation – and repeated, "You haven't changed."

Yuuri looked puzzled. He blinked a few times, like he did not know what to say next. But then the girl beside him, the one who had been holding his hand the entire time, tapped him lightly on the shoulder, and Yuuri seemed to come to his senses.

"Oh yeah…umm…Reiko, this is Wolfram." Yuuri turned to me. "Wolfram, this is Reiko…"

Reiko, huh? I refrained from looking at the girl from head to toe, so I took in all I could of her appearance from one angle. She is pretty, I'll give her that, with her dark brown, shoulder-length hair and bangs that came neatly just above her large, expressive eyes…but she did not look like anything else either. Not intelligent, or talented, or anything special. Hers was a face I had seen so many times before. Just pretty much…ordinary. I cherished that thought for a few seconds before I realized how sarcastic and bitter I was becoming over this entire thing. I had three years to sort my feelings. '_Move on, man!_' I scolded myself.

"I've heard so much about you," the bride told me, her voice a grating soprano, much like Miko-san's. "I've been dying to meet you, Wolf-chan."

The use of such a familiar term made me shift uneasily. I stared at Yuuri's fiancée in her sweet pastel-colored evening dress, taking in her equally saccharine smile, not knowing how to respond. There was none of the sense of protectiveness or resentment that I would normally associate with a bride who had just met her groom's ex-lover, and I wondered whether Yuuri had gathered up the nerve to tell her who I had been in his life. Maybe not, I guessed. Why would she agree to have me here if that were the case, right?

"My name is Reiko," she continued, extending her Yuuri-free hand. "Nice to meet you."

I shook it, trying to reconfigure my face into a gracious smile. "Nice to meet you, too."

Her smile broadened. "All the other girls kept teasing me about being upstaged by the bridesmaids, but now…" – she gave me a sly look – "I guess I should be more worried about being upstaged by the best man."

It took me a full minute to absorb that. Nobody told me that I had to play a part in the ceremony. I arched one eyebrow at Yuuri and echoed, "The best man?"

Yuuri's jaw had dropped open, and he was staring at his fiancée with mingled shock and puzzlement. "Reiko? What…?"

"He would look good in the entourage, wouldn't he?" the girl asked sweetly. She gave me another appraising look. "Besides, he's too beautiful to be ignored."

Yuuri flushed and determinedly avoided my gaze. "Er…excuse us."

He pulled his fiancée away and started to whisper something in her ears. He must be so agitated that he did not realize that his voice was still discernible, or maybe my ears were just trained really hard on what he was saying, but even from that distance, I was able to follow their conversation.

"Reiko," Yuuri was saying, "we already have a best man."

"Oh, we can always have two, right? I'm sure Ken-chan wouldn't mind."

_Ken-chan. _I cringed. Murata Ken grinned at me; I smiled back uncertainly.

"But you know," Yuuri's voice came again, "I can't possibly ask him…"

Reiko blinked innocently. "Well, ask him now. I'm sure he'd say yes, right?"

"I…" Yuuri looked back at me warily, almost afraid. I shrugged half-heartedly. "It's not really his thing, you know…"

"What's not his thing?"

"Er…weddings."

Reiko puckered her lips childishly. "But he's your _best_ friend…"

"Y-yeah…" said Yuuri, one arm rising to scratch the back of his head – a gesture that was almost always an indication that he was near his breaking point. He was also starting to stutter. "B-but…y-you see…Wolf is a-also my…I mean he _was_ my…"

_'I'm also his ex,' _I supplied inside my head, willing the wimp to say the same words out loud. But of course, sheer willpower had no effect whatsoever. I sighed. Typical Yuuri. I guessed right all along. The wimp had not told his blushing bride about our rocky, abruptly-terminated relationship. Surprisingly enough, the foremost feeling I had at Yuuri's cover-up was relief. I need not have worried about the awkwardness of dealing with the bride after all. Reiko obviously did not have a clue about who I was or what I had once shared with her husband-to-be.

_'Better leave it that way_,_'_ I decided.

"Wolf-chan." Miko-san held my hand, drawing my attention away from the arguing couple. "You can share a table with us. You missed dinner but we could probably go somewhere after this."

"R-right …"

"Where are you staying by the way?" Miko-san went on. "Oh, I wish Cheri didn't sell that house next door. You could have come back and we'd be neighbors again! Just like old times!"

"Er…maybe…" I wanted to tell her that there was no going back to the "old times" but I was distracted. Yuuri was still with his fiancée. His posture was one of immense hesitation, and I knew at once that he was not planning to tell his bride the truth. At least not tonight. Maybe not ever.

Reiko was whining. "Yuu-chan, please~! You _have _to ask him. He'd look _really_ perfect in the entourage…so please~?"

Yuuri looked like he had eaten a lemon. "I-I'll see what I can do…"

It was infuriating. It sounded like Yuuri would do just about anything to make her happy.

"Yes!" Reiko cheered, leaning forward to place his arms around Yuuri's neck. "I love you, Yuu-chan!"

I quickly averted my gaze, and my eyes accidentally locked with Shori's. His face was stormy. I raised an eyebrow and grinned, knowing that it would only annoy him even more. I never did find out why he seemed to harbor so much animosity towards me. He disliked me as Yuuri's friend and disapproved of me as his little brother's lover, and I never understood why. Now however, his obvious disdain for me was justified. After all, I was the guy who nearly killed his precious little Yuu-chan. The fact that I was heartbroken over what happened would not get me a single iota of forgiveness from him. I had since stopped trying to gain his approval and had resorted to irritating him as best as I could. Even now, the habit was hard to break.

I smiled widely at Shori. He scowled in return.

"Where are you staying, Wolf-chan?" Miko-san repeated as she led me to a table near the front. Her husband, Shori, and Murata trailed silently behind us. "We've all booked rooms here for the night…you know…makes it easier to gather everyone for the ceremony. Maybe you could share a room with Yuu-chan—"

"Mom!" Shori admonished loudly. The thought of me and Yuuri in the same room obviously bothered him as much as it did me.

To my surprise, Miko-san looked faintly ashamed at her tactlessness. But an awkward moment was forestalled when an emcee called everyone back to their seats, announcing that a toast for the bride and groom was in order. I took my place beside Yuuri's mother. Yuuri and Reiko hastily returned to a table set upon a makeshift stage.

The next half hour passed in a blur. Forgetting her earlier indiscretion, Miko-san chattered happily beside me, asking what I had been up to for the past three years. Shoma-san seemed to be listening, but I could tell that he had something else in mind. Shori was never far behind, looming over me like a depressing shadow. Murata was also there, regarding me with a neutral smile. I returned their stares politely and answered all of their questions like a programmed machine.

Back at the stage, a series of unknown friends and relatives commandeered the microphone and told stories about Yuuri and Reiko's love for each other. One of their classmates from high school recounted how the couple first met, and how they saw each other again and fell in love during their class reunion. I felt a bitter taste in my mouth as I listened. Yuuri knew her when we were still together. He "fell" for her about a year after I left. A man, who looked incredibly like the bride, followed next and cracked jokes about the couple's impending honeymoon. The guests roared with laughter. Yuuri blushed, and his fiancée gave him an affectionate peck on the cheek.

I had braced myself for this, but still, the pain caught me unawares. My stomach twisted with distress and jealousy, and I wondered once again why I still harbored these irksome emotions. I wondered what I was trying to prove by being here right now. Beside me, Miko-san reached out to squeeze my hand. I tried to smile to reassure her, but I might have just looked embarrassed. I suddenly wished that I had my own mother with me, or at the very least, I wished I had waited for Conrad, so that we could have arrived together. I looked around. Where _was_ Conrad anyway?

There was a round of applause, and with a start, I realized that we were nearly done with the night. Guests have started to stand up and mingle with one another, and looking around, I saw that I was practically set adrift a sea of strangers. I felt so displaced. I glanced around, forcing the uneasiness out of my head. I could not afford to look weak or vulnerable, but…what was I supposed to do now?

"Would you like a drink?"

The question came from a most unlikely source, and I looked up in surprise. Shori had grasped my shoulder quite firmly, a look of utmost displeasure carved into his face. I tried my best to look unruffled.

"Yes, thank you." I looked at Miko-san and her husband. "Would you care to join us?"

Shori answered for them, "They can't. They have to talk to Reiko's parents…right?"

I saw Shori share an imperceptible nod with his father. Shoma-san took his wife's elbow and started to steer her away. Miko-san did not protest, but she called out in an atypically tense voice, "Sho-chan…be nice, okay?"

Shori nodded impatiently.

I allowed myself to be led away once again, right into the bar at the far section of the room. As soon as we were well out of earshot, Shori turned to me.

"Why did you come?"

"You promised me a drink," I reminded him, avoiding the question. Shori complied and instructed the bartender to give me whatever I want. When we were both seated with a glass of wine in our hands, I said, "Don't worry, I'm not here to ruin anything for Yuuri."

"I find that hard to believe," Shori snorted. "You shouldn't have come, you know. I really thought you wouldn't."

I sipped my drink in silence, not bothering to comment.

"It's not too late," Shori persisted. "You can still go. Tell Yuuri that an urgent matter has come up at work. I'm sure he'd understand." He looked at me. "Just…just go. Please."

I mulled that over for a moment. That was certainly plausible, and may possibly be true. My phone had actually been ringing ceaselessly ever since my plane touched the tarmac, while I was settling in at the hotel, and even while I was making my way here. I had religiously ignored every call, but when it got to be too much, I just chucked the phone away. A large number of the calls were from my assistant. Some were from my uncle. The rest were from Damien.

I pushed them all out of my mind.

Shori stood up, abandoning his glass, indicating that he was done with me. "That's all I really have to say. Just let the past be. I won't ask you twice."

He walked away without a backward glance, and I was left alone to brood about my current situation. Shori was right. What the hell was I thinking? My eyes strayed towards Yuuri. Why did I come? What do I want to gain by abandoning my life and returning to this place? To him? I straightened up as another question hit me out of nowhere: Do I want Yuuri back?

I buried my face in my hands and groaned. _'Nice, Wolfram,' _I scolded myself, _'Why don't you push the bride off the building while you're at it?'_ My gaze went to the girl beside Yuuri and all at once, the idea did not seem so bad at all. '_Something is wrong with me_,' I decided after a second. Maybe I _should_ go. I drank some more, draining my glass in a single gulp.

"Hey, you need another drink?" Murata plopped down on Shori's just-vacated seat, pointing at my empty glass. I looked at my new interrogator with resignation, but instead of another speech about my unwanted presence, Murata said simply, "It's on me."

I nodded, waiting for him to say something else. When he did nothing but order a drink for himself and sip it in silence, I asked, "Are you going to tell me to leave too?"

Murata smiled. "Is that what Shori told you?"

"Pretty much, yes."

"He must be shocked to see you here. Up until you came, he really didn't expect that you'd come. I certainly didn't."

"That was obvious," I remarked wryly. "Everyone seemed to be having a heart attack a while back." The scene appeared funnier in retrospect, and I laughed.

Murata laughed too, and then asked, "So why _did_ you come?"

"I don't know," I admitted. I was still grinning for some reason. "I just felt that I needed to. Is that wrong?"

"Depends on what you wanted to accomplish."

Murata always had this irritating manner of not answering questions directly. I rolled my eyes at him and asked, "What do you mean by that?"

"Well…have you returned to take Shibuya back? Or are you just here to wish him well?"

It was easy to deny the former and agree to the latter, but finding the sincerity to do so was another thing entirely. I did not even have the option to fake it, considering who I was talking to. Murata was one perceptive bastard.

I downed the rest of my drink and signaled for another, buying some time before I would have to give an answer.

"So which is it?" Murata prodded when I still did not give a response.

"I don't know," I answered honestly, realizing that I must sound like a broken record.

Murata chortled. "Tough luck."

I tipped my glass to him. "Tell me about it."

We did not talk for a while. I let my eyes roam around the room, looking for familiar faces. I could see a lot of people glancing in my direction but I recognized nobody else. Unconsciously, my gaze went back to Yuuri and his fiancée. They were still together. The bride looked radiant. She was clinging to him, babbling merrily about something. Yuuri was listening with rapt fascination, hand still tightly entwined with hers.

He was smiling. He was happy. They both were.

Murata saw what I was looking at, and with an odd gleam in his eyes, he asked, "So what do you think about—?"

"—my replacement?" I finished with an ironic smile. I said dispassionately, "He's marrying his mother." Or a copy of Miko-san, I amended mentally, eyeing the couple.

Murata grinned. "You noticed that too?"

"It's obvious."

"Not to the others," he said with a chuckle.

I grinned back at him, permitting myself to appreciate the hilarity of the situation. It _was_ funny, now that I had time to consider it, for Yuuri to go for someone who was the complete opposite of me, while I…I spent three years looking for someone like Yuuri…

I shook my head softly at myself. The pang of loneliness came, stronger than ever. I wanted to get away, to escape. I felt incredibly pathetic. What was I thinking, flying all the way here? I do not belong here. Tears stung my eyes but I held them in. Breaking down in front of Yuuri's friend, in front of Yuuri's family and guests, in full view of Yuuri himself, was not something that I wanted to do. I had too much pride for that.

"Ah…you've attracted attention." Murata sounded amused.

I glanced up and followed his line of vision. Three girls were ogling us, giggling loudly when our eyes met.

"Sangria, Doria, and Lasagna – Reiko's bridesmaids. Always on the look-out for a new face." Murata took another sip. "Brace yourself. They'll corner you when you're all alone. Hmm…I think they might actually be waiting for me to leave…"

"Then stay and talk," I ordered. I did not have the patience to deal with simpering bridesmaids. Not now, not ever. On the other hand, Murata's presence was, at the least, tolerable. We had never been close, but he had always been civil towards me, never hostile like Shori.

"I think I would be of better help if I distract them," he answered. He looked over my shoulder and gestured with his head. "Besides…I think somebody's about to throw a fit if I don't leave you alone now."

My heart thumped with anticipation. Was Yuuri watching me too? Was he looking at me from the corners of his eyes, wondering what to do with me? Second-guessing his own decision to marry somebody else now that I'd decided to return to his life?

It was all sheer guesswork bordering on delusion, but the mere idea that I was having as much effect on Yuuri as he was on me took some of my discomfort and pain away. I felt like myself again, and as easily as that, I felt some of my confidence returning, strengthening me, making me feel less like a fragile piece of glass that was on the verge of breaking into pieces. I was confused at this feeling. Then I reasoned to myself, if I was not the only one who was stuck in the past, if I was not the only one who was still hoping…then maybe…maybe it would be easier to…to…

I felt confused again. To do what exactly?

Murata stood up and gave me a vague smile. I was instantly reminded of our conversation a moment back.

_"Depends on what you wanted to accomplish."_

_"What do you mean by that?"_

_"Well…have you returned to take Shibuya back? Or are you just here to wish him well?"_

Take Yuuri back. Or wish him well. Take Yuuri back. Or wish him well. Take Yuuri back. Or wish him well. Take Yuuri back…

_'My god,' _I thought, disgusted at myself for the thoughts and images that just flashed across my mind. Even as I sat there, waiting for Yuuri to get to me, I had already played a mental scenario where he and I confess our undying love for each other and end up eloping before his actual wedding day. I had already _planned_ for it, with all the intent to _act_ on it. Honestly, what was wrong with me?

I sat miserably, feeling more and more pathetic by the second, when Murata said something that made me glance up in surprise.

"You know him?"

"What?" I asked, uncomprehending.

"Him," he said with a significant twitch of an eyebrow. "He was staring at you the entire time."

"What?" I repeated. I thought he was mocking me, but then I turned to see what he was looking at and I reeled back in astonishment and disbelief. Someone was walking towards us, but it wasn't Yuuri. A pair of eyes stared calmly back at me, and they weren't Yuuri's. Someone glowered suspiciously at Murata, and. It. Wasn't. Yuuri.

I held my breath.

It was Damien.

~o0o~

**Chapter 4: Of Arguments and Reconciliations**

~o0o~

**Wolfram von Bielefeld**

It was Damien.

He was clad in a casual pair of jeans and a white jacket over a plain shirt. He looked so out of place, dressed down like that, but at the same time, he looked so…unpretentious. If anything else, his simplicity made everyone else around him look severely overdressed. There were flecks of something silver in his hair that twinkled slightly when they caught the light. Water, I realized after a second. He might have walked in the rain, just like I did. I blinked, just to make sure that I was not just seeing things. But he was still there, followed by several appreciative pairs of eyes as he made his way towards me.

I could hardly believe that he was here. This guy…he really was something.

"Wolfram," Murata said, "do you know him?"

"Y-yes," I choked out despite my astonishment. "He's a…a friend."

Murata took a look at my reaction, and as usual, seemed to have readily read between the lines. "I see. I better go then."

I nodded, not taking my eyes off the approaching man. Murata whispered a hasty goodbye and left. I took a moment to brace myself, just enough to face the ensuing confrontation, drawing strength from more swigs of alcohol. By the time Damien got to me, I felt a little dizzy.

"Hi," Damien said casually. "I've been trying to get in touch with you."

He sounded like I hadn't just ignored all of his calls, like I hadn't just crossed an entire continent to get away from him, like I hadn't allowed him to walk out of my apartment – out of my life – the last time we were together.

"Damien," I replied, both as a greeting and a question. "What are you…?"

"If you'd only bothered to answer my calls," he said, moving to take Murata's empty seat, "then you would have known that I arrived here a day after you did."

"You weren't invited," I said rather rudely.

"True," he conceded. Then he procured a pink envelope from his pocket, and tossed it in the counter right in front of me. "Doesn't mean that I couldn't get one."

I eyed the invitation warily, noticing that it was addressed to Conrad Weller. "Conrad's…? What's going on?"

"Your brother couldn't come, so he asked me to take his place."

My eyes narrowed. "Conrad? He never told me this."

"He tried to call you, but guess who's not answering the phone?"

I frowned, but I was surprised to find that I was not really as annoyed as I sounded. If I were to be honest with myself, Damien's presence here was more welcome than intrusive. Strangely enough, I felt calmer now that he was here. It was like having an ally amongst these people who hated my guts. Because despite his deception, I knew I could count on Damien to be on my side.

He was still scolding me for ignoring his calls, but I was no longer listening. I felt like bursting into laughter. It was just _so_ _funny_. Mere seconds back, I had been indulging myself in an impossible flight of the imagination. Moments earlier, I had been so nervous that Yuuri was finally going to talk to me. Damien's presence placed everything into perspective. Now I could see how utterly ridiculous my thoughts had been. How impossible. I could no longer hold it in. I laughed, cutting off Damien's litany of the offenses that I should be sorry about.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing." I smiled and stood up. "Care for a walk? I need to breathe."

He did the same. "It's too early to leave, don't you think?"

"I just need to clear my mind." _Especially with the things I've been imagining_, I added mentally. Then with a grin, I continued, "Besides, I was told that the bridesmaids have set their eyes on me."

"Oh? It must be really hard not to, you being so pretty and all."

"Speak for yourself," I responded slyly. "You've made quite an entrance there. The girls would be closing in on you before the night is over."

"So they think I'm good-looking?" Damien asked, shooting the bridesmaids a glance.

"Evidently," I answered, "or they wouldn't be swooning over you."

"Do _you_ think I'm good-looking?"

I snorted. "Does it matter what I think?"

For a moment, his face grew serious. "It does, actually." Then he turned away, and to my bemusement, gave the bridesmaids a cheerful smile and a wave.

"What are you doing?"

"Waving," he said simply. "You should try it too."

I caught his arm and forced it down. "Stop that! They might think you're interested."

"I could be."

"No, you're not."

Damien examined my face and laughed. "Are you actually jealous?"

"You wish."

I began walking, dragging him along with me by the elbow. Damien followed obediently, smiling amiably at every person we met along the way. We reached the safety of one of the terraces before either of us spoke again. By that time, I was wondering why I was acting this way. Wasn't I furious at him for something? But now I see – it was hard to be mad at someone like Damien for very long. He was just too…nice. Or maybe it was just me.

"Where are you staying?" he asked me.

"You haven't found out yet?" I shot back. "And here I was thinking that you were supposed to be all-knowing."

"I didn't have time. And besides, I'd rather that you tell me yourself. Gives the impression that you want me to know. You _could_ invite me over."

"And if I don't tell you?"

"I was hoping you would."

"And if I don't?" I insisted.

Damien glanced at me askance. "Is this a test?"

"It's a valid question," I said, "because honestly, you are _this_ close" – I motioned with my thumb and forefinger – "to becoming a stalker. It's pathetic."

_Pathetic._ The very word seemed to mock me, and for the first time that night, the careful mask I had assembled to hide the pain and anxiety I feel deep within, started to fall apart. Pathetic. Come to think of it, I was not any different. Damien and I – we were both pathetic.

"Pathetic," I repeated, and much to my horror, there was a tremor of misery in my voice.

Damien did not reply immediately. I waited for him to berate me, or to defend himself against my accusation, but instead, he said, "You really are stupid."

"What?" I burst out, baffled at his response. Was he even listening to me?

Damien took advantage of my confusion and pulled me close, so that my head was resting on his chest. He held me in place with one arm slung across the small of my back, coming to a rest on my waist. His other hand found its way to my hair, stroking gently.

I blinked and looked up at him. "You know," I warned, "this sort of thing is not generally accepted here."

"What sort of thing?" He sounded innocent enough.

"This." I gestured to our position. My fingers moved to caress the hand that was on my waist. "_This_ sort of thing."

"Oh." He gave me a quizzical look. "Is that why you and…and him…didn't work out?"

I stiffened at the question. Then I began to seriously consider it. "Yes. Partly at least. Yuuri cared too much about other people's opinions, I guess."

"But you stayed with him."

"I thought things would change. I thought he'd eventually grow up and get over it and accept…us…"

"But he didn't."

I nodded.

Damien went on, "You can't change things, Wolfram."

"I know," I whispered.

"He's getting married."

"I know."

"They might already be legally married," Damien continued. "You do realize that in most cases, an official marriage certificate is filed before the actual ceremony could take place?"

Of course I knew everything. I had researched everything I could about weddings in this country before I proposed to Yuuri all those years ago, even though I knew that we would not be able to get married in the legal sense. I repeated quietly, "I know."

Damien released a frustrated huff. "Then _what_ are you doing here?"

It was maddening to have to answer that question all night long. Annoyed, I pushed him away. "I don't know," I replied heatedly. "Maybe I want to disrupt the wedding and steal my ex-boyfriend back."

"You don't mean that."

I wanted to agree. I wanted to tell him to take me away from there before I ended up doing something that I would regret later on, but the words would not come out. Out of nowhere, I remembered Damien's accusations, back in my apartment:

_"It's Yuuri Shibuya! You've always been drawn to him!"_

With a sinking feeling, I realized how true that statement was.

"Wolfram?" Damien said, trying to pull me back into his arms. "You didn't mean that, did you?"

I stepped away and said nothing. There was a moment of heavy silence. The happy chatter of the dinner guests floated from the hallway and filled in the void between us.

"Well then," Damien said after a while, and there was no mistaking the bitterness in his voice. His hands fell uselessly to his sides, clenching into tight fists. "It's lucky that I'm here to stop you from doing anything stupid."

I laughed. I realized vaguely that I had been laughing a lot tonight. Maybe I was already drunk. "What? Are you playing bodyguard again? So who's paying you to keep an eye on me tonight? Is it Conrad?"

I did not know why I said that. It was cruel and unnecessary, and I could see by the look on Damien's face that I had hurt him. I wanted to apologize but my pride would not let me say the words. I glared at him, thinking that I would be perfectly okay if he would just hit me, or if he would just say something hurtful at the very least.

"You're drunk," Damien said in a low tone, as though to rationalize what I had just said. "We should go."

His readiness to overlook whatever spiteful thing I might have done or said to him infuriated me. How dare he act like this? How dare he turn me into the bad guy? At that moment, I felt such an overwhelming explosion of rage towards him for being so damn understanding, and kind, and…and…_perfect_.

My voice was as icy as the wind that blew in from the street outside. "How much do I have to pay you for you to leave me alone?"

Damien held my eyes. I could see that my question shook him, but he quickly kept his emotions under control. However, when he spoke, his voice cracked slightly. "You…you really don't think much of me at all, do you?"

I did not answer.

"All those weeks that we were together…those do not matter to you at all, do they?"

I stared at him mutely.

Damien looked disgusted at my lack of response. He turned away. "I'm going for a walk. I'll see you later."

I glanced at him in surprise. Why would he still come back and see me after all the things I had said? I shook my head and fought down the guilt that threatened to eat away at my guts. I called out after him, pinning him in place, "You just don't know when to give up, do you?"

Damien half turned towards me and gave me a wry, joyless smile. "I could say the same for you."

And not for the first time, he spun around and left me alone, gaping after him like a fool.

~o0o~

**Yuuri Shibuya**

"You seem distracted, Yuu-chan," Reiko observed.

I gave a start. "Oh. I…um…what were you saying?"

"Are you worried about him?" She gestured towards the other end of the room, to the bar, where I'd been watching Wolfram talk to an odd assortment of people. Shori was first. Then Murata. Then there was that brown-haired guy in the white jacket. A stranger – to me at least. Wolfram seemed to know him.

"Y-yeah," I answered. "I think my brother had just given him the third degree. I'm not sure what he and Murata just talked about. And…" I hesitated, frowning as the stranger took a seat beside Wolfram. Wolfram laughed at something the guy just said. It was the first time since he arrived that his posture relaxed.

I felt irrationally annoyed. I was walking on eggshells the entire time, worried that I might be unintentionally hurting Wolfram with my actions, that just by inviting him to my wedding would be painful for him. I didn't realize that he had already moved on. That he was well enough to even bring a _date_.

Date. The very word seemed distasteful. And as I looked back at Wolfram with the white-jacket guy, I felt…cheated. I'd been so careful with my actions with Reiko, always considering how Wolfram would feel upon seeing me with someone else. I hadn't given a single thought to what _I'd_ feel now that shoe was on the other foot. But I knew one thing for sure. Wolfram and White Jacket Guy together? I didn't like it.

"You're worried about him," Reiko stated.

"Yeah, I…"

I lost my train of thought again. From across the room, Wolfram stood to leave, beckoning White Jacket Guy to go with him. Some words were exchanged – maybe a joke of some kind – as the two glanced towards the other end of the room, both with amused expressions. I saw that they were staring at the bridesmaids. The guy waved at the girls, making them blush and giggle behind their hands. Then, as though he couldn't stand to see him flirting with them, Wolfram caught White Jacket Guy's arm and dragged him away. I had just enough time to feel confused at their behaviors before they both disappeared from view.

I stood up.

"Yuu-chan?"

"Er…Reiko, would you be okay on your own…?" I couldn't understand why I wanted to follow Wolfram and that guy so badly that I was willing to ditch my fiancée. I felt guilty when I took in Reiko's expression, but I squashed that feeling away.

"Sure," Reiko readily said. "I had the feeling that you wanted to talk to him anyway."

"I'll try to come back—"

"No, it's okay." Reiko gave me a reassuring smile. "In any case, it's getting pretty late. I think I'll call it a night."

"You're sure?"

She kissed me lightly on the cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow. Yuu-chan, I—"

She said something else, but I wasn't entirely listening. "Yes, tomorrow," I chimed. And then I was sprinting to catch up with Wolfram and his companion. Some people tried to stop me to wish me the best for the wedding ceremony tomorrow, but I passed them by without acknowledging their greetings. They could tell me _after_ the wedding, I thought impatiently.

I could see Wolfram from a few meters away. I nearly ran towards him, but thankfully, common sense and rational thinking returned to me. What should I tell him? I hadn't even thought about that. Well, I knew I had to talk to him, preferably before the night was over, while I still have time, but I hadn't thought about confronting him without being prepared. Right now, I wasn't prepared. Then why did I run after him?

I realized the answer, and I groaned in shame. I went after him because I wanted to draw him away from that guy. I was a little jealous, and I knew I had no right to be.

_'You're just not used to it,' _I told myself. That was partly true. I'd never seen Wolfram with anybody else. He wasn't really that sociable to begin with, and when we became friends and eventually lovers, he had always had his eyes on me. I found his loyalty and devotion a bit too constricting at times, but after we broke up, I sort of missed it. Now that he seemed to have found somebody else, I didn't know what to feel.

I slowed down, no longer running, but still walking at a steady pace. Wolfram and White Jacket Guy turned a corner and went into one of the hotel's terraces, the one overlooking the gardens. I hesitated and thought of a way to barge into their conversation. Then something hit me. What if they weren't just talking? What if they're _kissing_ beyond the curtains or…or…or…

I cursed myself. What do I care anyway? It wasn't any of my business what Wolfram does with anybody else. I was about to walk away, to catch up with Reiko and her parents, when the sound of raised voices stopped me dead on my tracks.

"…. leave me alone?"

My ears pricked with interest. That was unmistakably Wolfram's voice. There was a rustle, and then White Jacket Guy was there, saying, "I'm going for a walk. I'll see you later."

Hidden from view, I heard Wolfram again:

"You just don't know when to give up, do you?"

White Jacket Guy turned just so, and there was acid in his voice when he said, "I could say the same for you."

And he was gone. I looked around me. Nobody else seemed to have witnessed the altercation. I approached the terrace warily, knowing that Wolfram must be in a sour mood. He might need a friend – or something.

I peeked through the curtained space and whispered in the darkness. "Wolf?"

~o0o~

**Wolfram von Bielefeld**

"Wolf?"

I jumped at the voice. Yuuri! What was he doing here? He seemed embarrassed, and I instinctively knew that he had overheard my conversation with Damien. "Yuuri…" I frowned. "You heard us?"

Yuuri turned slightly red. "Yeah. Just the last part though."

I breathed a sigh of relief. Then my body tensed once more. Yuuri was here! In front of me! Waiting for something. Perhaps wanting to talk. But what should I tell him? Apologize for nearly killing him three years ago? Maybe wish him good luck for his wedding? Maybe say goodbye for good? Or maybe beg him to take me back?

"Thanks for coming, by the way," Yuuri said uneasily. He looked anxious. Well at least he was alone, without that girl clinging onto his arm.

That girl. For some reason, I remembered the conversation I had overheard earlier, between Yuuri and that girl, and the words 'best man' flashed in front of my eyes.

Oh no. If Yuuri was here to ask me on behalf of that girl, I might just do something stupid.

Yuuri licked his lips. "I…er…wanted to talk to you."

"We're talking."

"Wolf…" Yuuri pleaded. "I…we need to talk…just the two of us…"

It was the beginning of a talk that was at least three years too late. We never had this before I left the country. Even before Yuuri awoke from the third operation he had to undertake as a result of the accident, I was already on a plane to Berlin. I could not stand to look him in the eye. I could not stand to be in the same room as his brother, his parents, and his friends. I could not even stand to hear his voice. I left Japan and never looked back.

I smiled, just to ease the tension. "Then start talking."

Yuuri squirmed in discomfort. "Not here."

I nodded in understanding. Besides, this promised to be a very emotional confrontation. Privacy was a must.

I shrugged, steadying myself by holding onto the ledge. I was not feeling good at all. "Lead the way."

"Thank you," Yuuri replied, smiling tentatively. My heart fluttered and it was all I could do to stop myself from smiling back and flinging my arms around him and telling him how much I missed him. I caught myself just in time.

"This way," Yuuri said.

As I followed him away from there, I couldn't help but curse myself again for being so stupid.

~o0o~

**Yuuri Shibuya**

What did I want to tell him? I seemed to have forgotten the moment that we were alone. The fact that I led Wolfram into my hotel room did nothing to calm my nerves. It never occurred to me that being alone with him would be this uncomfortable, this…mortifying. As I looked at him, I felt as though I was looking at a stranger.

Wolfram examined the room and took a seat at the foot of the bed. I could tell that he also felt uneasy at our current location. Before we'd entered the room, he had raised his eyebrows at me and had asked in a surprised tone, "Here?"

When I explained that this was the only place inside the building that we can be assured of not being disturbed (or overheard), he nodded reluctantly and inquired, "But…wouldn't this be troublesome…I mean, with you and me alone inside…? What would people say?"

I blushed. "I told Reiko that I needed to talk to you. She…she wouldn't mind…"

"What about your brother?"

I blinked. "Shori? What…?" I trailed off, remembering that I saw him talking to my brother back at the hall. "Did Shori tell you anything? Did he do anything—?"

Wolfram waved a dismissive hand. "It doesn't matter. Let's just get this over with."

Then he led the way inside. I followed, feeling so out of my depth. How do you talk to someone who had been such a big piece of your life, but was no longer a part of it? How do you deal with a person that you had been in love with, but was now almost like a stranger to you? What do you talk about with a friend and a lover that you hadn't seen in three years?

I didn't know how to start and so I kept quiet. Wolfram did the same, eyes glued to his feet. Then at almost the same time, we both started to talk.

I began, "So, how have you been?"

Wolfram said, "So, are you going to ask me?"

Typical, I thought, for Wolfram to go direct to the point – although I didn't understand at first what point he was driving at – and for me to beat around the bush. I stared at him and asked, "What?"

"About being your second best man."

"Oh." I cringed inwardly.

It was hard to convince Reiko to let go of an idea once she had it firmly lodged in her mind. She had this vision of a Western-inspired wedding, and so I agreed to it. Now she had this mental picture of the perfect wedding entourage, and unfortunately, Wolfram had just become part of it. I stubbed my toes against the floor and cast my mind around for something to say.

In the end, all I could do was ask, "Er…do you want to?"

He threw the question back at me. "Do you want me to?"

I didn't, but you'd have to drag me to hell before I'd say something potentially offensive to his face. Instead, I told him in my best diplomatic tone, "If it would be inconvenient for you, then no."

"Fair enough," Wolfram said, giving me a knowing smile. He pondered over that for a moment before finally saying in a similar tactful voice, "I'd rather not do it, if that's fine with you. And Reiko-san, of course."

I winced at his tone. We sounded like two people who had just met each other for the first time, like two individuals who had never seen each other until today. I realized with a sinking feeling that it was nearly impossible to go back to what we once had as kids…to what we once had three years ago…

It was disappointing. I sort of missed the old Wolfram – the Wolfram who liked to tease me about being a wimp, the one who loved me unconditionally. That Wolfram was gone, and I had nobody but myself to blame. I'd pushed my friend away. I'd hurt the man who loved me beyond any chance of forgiveness – or at least I hope that it hadn't gone to _that_ extreme.

"I'm sure Reiko will understand," I said carefully. "She's really…great."

"She seems to be a very reasonable person," Wolfram replied neutrally.

"Y-yeah, she is. You'll like her, if you get to know her. I-I mean if you want to…to get to know…her…" I finished lamely.

"Really?"

I nodded. "She loves me, Wolf."

"Tell me about her," Wolfram said, almost like an order, and against my better judgment, I began to talk. It was like a dam had broken inside me, and a flood of details and thoughts and feelings just burst free from my mouth. I told him how Reiko and I met. I told him about our first date. I told him that I feel free when I'm with her. I told him that I love her.

I was talking to Wolfram, my best friend. It was only a while later that I realized that Wolfram, my ex-boyfriend, was also somewhere in there, listening to every word I had just said. After my monologue, Wolfram didn't say anything. I looked at him, and he just looked right back, waiting. Finally, I couldn't stand it.

"Wolf…I…I'm _really_ sorry…"

He scoffed, and for the first time, I thought I saw a fragment of the Wolfram I had grown up with in the gleam of his dark green eyes. "For what?"

I floundered for something to say. For what indeed? For hurting his feelings? For not being man enough to stand by him all those years ago? For breaking his heart? Wolfram was waiting for my answer, and staring him in the eyes at that moment, I began to appreciate how difficult it must be for him to be here right now. Why did I even ask him? Why did he even come?

"For everything." I paused, not knowing how to proceed. "I…I know that what I did was terrible. I just feel so bad that I didn't get to tell you three years ago. I really am sorry, and I'm happy that you came today…"

Wolfram stared at me, then he rolled his eyes and muttered, "This is stupid."

"Wolf…"

"You think I hate you?"

"You must have," I said reasonably, "I…I _dumped _you…"

"Of course." Wolfram crossed his arms. "Then you must hate me, too. I nearly _killed _you."

I frowned, remembering the accident and the argument that had led to it. "You couldn't really blame yourself for that, Wolf. I mean, you were drunk and if I hadn't made you mad in the first place—"

"That isn't an excuse."

"It was an _accident_," I stressed. "You didn't mean for it to happen—"

"Did I?" He sounded bitter. "I could have stopped the car. I had enough time to pull over—"

"You were drunk!"

"Not drunk enough," Wolfram contradicted, his voice dropping to a low whisper. "I knew what I was doing, Yuuri. I…I _meant _to kill you…to end everything…I wasn't going to let anyone else have you…I…I…"

I couldn't stand the look on his face. "Wolfram, stop! Stop it!"

"I nearly killed you. And it wasn't an accident. I know you know it."

I bowed my head and thought back to that night. I hadperhaps known that deep inside – it was difficult not to think otherwise whenever I remember Wolfram's face back then – but I couldn't really blame him for anything. It was unfair to blame him of anything when I deserved whatever I got.

"I deserved it," I said, giving voice to that vicious thought that appeared out of nowhere.

Wolfram shook his head fiercely. "You didn't."

"Wolf…" I wanted to touch him but I dared not for fear that he might not want me to.

He clenched his fists into tight balls and said softly, "I haven't forgotten. I haven't forgiven myself for that. It was my fault." He glared at me. "I'm the one who should apologize."

There was a moment of silence, in which we did nothing but stare at each other. Then I said slowly, "Why didn't you ever tell me how you felt? Back at the hospital, you never said anything. You…you just left. I woke up, and you weren't there anymore."

"I couldn't stand to see you like that."

I nodded in understanding. I suddenly realized that the hatred I remembered seeing on his face all those years ago might not have been directed at me. It was for himself. He hated himself for hurting me. I felt an unexpected outpouring of affection for him.

I smiled. "Wolfram…I don't hate you. I never did."

"Well, you should have," he said, and although he was scowling, his shoulders seemed to relax a little bit. He looked relieved.

"I knew that it was my fault. I shouldn't have led you on…"

The words were out before I realized what I'd just said. Wolfram recoiled, as though someone had struck him in the face. I bit my tongue, fearfully waiting for his reaction. But his face was shrouded in the darkness, and it was impossible to tell what he was thinking.

"I don't hate you either," he said after a pause. "I guess I shouldn't have…held on for so long…"

We stayed silent for minutes…hours…a hundred years – I didn't really care. I needed to do this. We needed to end this properly. _Closure_, I thought.

"Wolfram," I ventured, breaking the silence, "why did you come?"

He looked up, startled. Then amazingly, he started to laugh.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing," he said. "It's just that you're not the first person to ask me that today, and my answer hasn't changed."

"What was your answer?" I asked curiously.

"I don't know," he said matter-of-factly.

"Huh?"

"I. Don't. Know." He threw his hands up in exasperation, and he looked suddenly agitated. "I don't know! I don't know if I want to stop your stupid wedding! I don't know if I want to take you back! I don't know if I want you to take me back! I just don't know!"

His outburst took me by surprise. I didn't have any inkling that he had these thoughts all along. I didn't know what to say to that. I opened and closed my mouth without uttering a single word. As Wolfram's words sunk in, I felt a very strong urge to run away. I was scared of what this conversation might lead to, of what feelings it might unearth.

The atmosphere inside the room had turned suffocating. I needed to breathe.

"I-I'll just…" I couldn't think of a suitable lie. "I…I need to get some air. I'll be back."

I turned to leave.

"Yuuri…"

I froze in place. I wanted him to stop talking. I was afraid of what he would say next, but I willed myself to stop being such a coward. "Y-yeah?"

"What went wrong with us?"

The question caught me off-guard. I already had a hand on the knob, but I slowly released it and turned around to face him. I shook my head.

"I don't know, Wolf…"

"Yuuri…"

The way he whispered my name made me feel oddly hot. I loosened my tie and tried to keep my breathing steady. Wolfram looked up, his eyes gleaming in the darkness, much like a cat's.

"You did love me, right?"

What sort of question was that? I swallowed hard. "Y-yeah…of course…"

Wolfram regarded me with a grave expression. "Then why couldn't you…accept me back then?"

What was I supposed to say? That I was an idiotic coward? Even if I knew that to be true, that didn't seem like a fair answer anymore.

I didn't say anything, but Wolfram pressed on, "Was it our families?"

"My mom loves you," I pointed out, which was actually a bit of an understatement. Mom worshipped him. Still does.

"Well, so does mine," said Wolfram, before adding with a slight sneer, "Your brother hates me though."

"Well, so does yours," I retorted.

"Gwendal does," Wolfram conceded, "but certainly not Conrad."

"Yeah, but I've only got one brother. What am I supposed to do?"

Unexpectedly, Wolfram laughed and let out that dear, familiar word in amusement. "Wimp."

I laughed too, the atmosphere lightening considerably, almost like ice melting. I stood uncertainly for a second beside the door before deciding that I couldn't run away from this again. I made my way to sit beside him.

Wolfram leaned towards me, resting his head on my shoulder, and I automatically put my arms around him. We sat companionably just like that, and for a second there, I felt like we were kids again. It was just like old times, during the countless afternoons that we had spent together, when we'd go wandering about town. We'd always end up in a park somewhere, seated on a bench, spending an entire hour talking about all sorts of things under the sun.

Life was simpler then…when games were just innocent diversions…when the words and touches we'd exchanged with one another meant nothing more than what they were…when love was something that was given freely, not some complicated feeling that you had to hide or be ashamed about.

But we grew up, and things changed.

"You smell good," Wolfram said unexpectedly. He brought his face nearer to mine, and I caught a strong whiff of alcohol from his breath.

"You're drunk, aren't you?" I held him back at arm's length to examine his face. I noticed for the first time that his cheeks were a dark shade of red, although I couldn't be sure if it was from the alcohol or from embarrassment. It must be a little bit of both. "How many glasses did you have exactly?"

"Not much." He let out an un-Wolfram-ish giggle and reached up to ruffle my hair. "Did I ever tell you that you look good in a tuxedo?"

"You are drunk," I told him nonchalantly, although I felt my face getting hot at that compliment. "You better go to sleep."

"Here?" He snorted. "Your brother would love that."

"Shori doesn't get to tell me what to do," I muttered under my breath.

"You don't get it, do you?" Wolfram laughed. "If you let me stay, I wouldn't just _sleep…"_

"H-huh?"

Wolfram shook his head but did not elaborate. Instead, he said. "Funny, isn't it? I thought I'd forgotten about you, but here I am again. Why do you still have this much effect on me?"

I couldn't think of anything to say to that. A moment later, I could hardly think of anything at all. Wolfram drew closer and our lips met for the briefest second. It was no more than a light peck, but a crushing wave of electricity flowed from my lips, to the rest of my body. I sat there, a bit stunned. I wanted to push him away, but the images that appeared inside my head were so very tempting…and yet I…I…

My body was on fire. Wolf's skin was so warm against mine.

Wolf pressed against me some more, sending a fresh wave of heat through my veins. Instinctively, as though my body was acting on memory, my arms moved, coming to a rest around his waist. I shifted to get a better position.

We kissed, and this time, I was the one who moved forward.

"I hate myself," Wolfram said when we parted.

"I'm sorry…" I worried my lip and added ruefully, "I shouldn't have asked you to come."

"Well, it's too late for that."

"You don't have to be there tomorrow…"

"Don't be silly. It's your wedding…"

The last word hung heavily in the air. I held him tightly, not knowing what else to do to make everything easier for both of us. "Wolf…"

He cut me off with another kiss, deeper and more intense than the last, and it was nearly enough to make me forget that we weren't lovers anymore. I doubt if you could even call us friends. I ignored the fire that was rapidly spreading through the rest of my body, held Wolf by the shoulders, and moved to push him away.

But Wolfram's voice stopped me.

"Don't. Please."

I froze. "Wolf…"

"I'm drunk," he reminded me with an unconvincing stab at a joke. "I seemed to have lost my manners. And my sense of decency."

I didn't know whether to laugh or tell him off. I settled by warning him, "You'll regret this when you're sober."

"Probably," he replied, "but I think I'll regret it even more if I don't do this now."

"Wolfram…I…I don't…"

I'm not sure what my face looked like then, but it must have been bad enough for Wolfram to back off and release me. I noticed that he was shaking a bit.

"I'm sorry," he muttered softly. "I…I just…I…" He shook his head – a blur of gold in the shadows. "I'm being stupid. I…I have to go."

It must have taken him a lot of self-control to say that. I stared at him for two or three seconds, before deciding that I couldn't let him leave. At least not like this.

I didn't budge. Neither did he.

"Stay if you want to," I told him quietly.

Wolfram's expression was hard to read, and when he pushed me to the bed and kissed me again, I didn't stop him.

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN:_**

_When I started this story, I had a very clear idea as to where I wanted it to go. However, when it came down to this part – always this part – I started to struggle. As with all stories, the events could go a lot of different directions, with the end result that you will inevitably have several different endings. We often ask ourselves **'What if?' **and with this particular story, I found myself asking this question several times. I had hoped that leaving it the way it was and getting back to it later would eventually resolve these issues for me, but it did not happen. There were just too many possibilities that I couldn't ignore, so I decided NOT to ignore them. It is for this reason that there are two more chapters after this, perhaps enough to answer two 'What if?' questions…can you guess what those are? Hahaha._

_And oh – somebody pointed this out in the review, I forgot to change the status of this story from complete to ongoing._

_Anyway, thank you so much for the reviews and support. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. _


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